The Distant Clue
The wind off the moor did not howl. It whispered. It scraped against the windowpanes of the coach like fingernails on slate. Elias sat in the corner, his knees pressed tight against the wooden seat. He was a clerk. A man of ledgers and quiet rooms. But today he was a man on a road, moving toward a war that had no end. Beside him, in the next county, soldiers marched. Not here. Not yet. But the...
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