The greenhouse sat at the end of a mile of overgrown gravel, its glass panels clouded with a century of grime. Thomas found it by following the apple tree.
The greenhouse sat at the end of a mile of overgrown gravel, its glass panels clouded with a century of grime. Thomas found it by following the apple tree. He had been walking for three days. Not deliberately, not with a map or a plan. He had simply left the road near Malham and walked west, toward the moors, because that was the direction a voice in his head had pointed. He was thirteen years...
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