The Faded Frequency
The rain had not stopped for three days, a persistent, grey curtain that turned the muddy tracks of the Blackwood Ridge into a slurry of brown paste and rotting leaves, and in the center of that wet, shivering world, Sergeant Thomas Bradshaw stood with his back against the trunk of a dead oak, his hands trembling not from the cold, but from the hollow, aching void inside his chest where his...
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