The Faded Guest
The frost had taken the valley before the men could. It came not as a gentle white dusting, but as a sudden, suffocating wall of ice that rose from the riverbed and swallowed the tracks. Thomas stood at the edge of the timber line, his breath pluming in thick, ragged clouds that hung in the air like ghosts. He was a large man, built for the rough work of the sawmills, but the cold had turned...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen