The Distant Legend
The snow fell in thick, heavy sheets, erasing the distinction between the road and the field, between the known and the unknown. Marcus Thorne drove the black sedan through the whiteout, the windshield wipers fighting a losing battle against the relentless accumulation. He was not a man who feared the weather. He was a man who feared the quiet. For three days, he had been driving north, away...
0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 2 مشاهدة 0 معاينة