The Wistful Throne
The order slip was soaked through, the ink bleeding into a blue smear that made the words illegible. Sergeant Elias Thorne held it up against the grey sky, trying to decipher the command for the third time. His hands shook, not from cold, but from the vibration of the earth beneath his boots. The mud of the no-man’s-land was thick and black, sucking at his boots with a wet, sucking sound. He...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima