The Distant Summer
The rain drummed against the tin roof of the guardhouse, a relentless, metallic tapping that sounded like knuckles rapping for attention. Elias Thorne sat in the corner, his back against the cold wall, watching the mud slide down the slope outside. He was a large man, broad-shouldered and thick-necked, with hands that had forgotten how to be still. His uniform was damp, the wool heavy and...
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