The Distant Affair
Thorne. The name was spat across the muddy yard by Private Miller, a sound sharp enough to cut through the howling wind that was currently tearing the canvas of the command tent to ribbons. Elias Thorne, thirty-four and a veteran of the frontier campaigns, stood frozen in the rain, his hands gripping the edge of his tent pole until his knuckles turned white. The storm did not merely blow; it...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 2 Views 0 Anteprima