The Pale Path
The mud was thick, a brown slurry that sucked at the boots of Sergeant Elias Thorne with a wet, gluttonous sound. He was not fighting a man. He was fighting the earth. The rain in the Scottish Highlands had turned the hillside into a mirror of chaos, reflecting the grey sky in jagged shards. Thorne’s rifle was a heavy, cold weight in his hands, but his mind was elsewhere, stuck on the...
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