The Golden Crossing
The wind in the moor was not merely a sound but a physical weight, a cold, damp hand pressing against the chest of Dr. Arthur Penhaligon as he walked the narrow, eroded path that cut through the heather like a scar. He was a man of considerable intellect, a botanist whose life’s work had been the classification of lichen species in the Scottish Highlands, a man who believed that if one could...
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