The Faded Photograph
The leather strap of the satchel cuts into your shoulder, a raw red line against the grey wool of your coat, and you feel the weight of the single photograph inside it like a stone in your chest. You are Elias Thorne, thirty-two years old, a border warden who has spent the last decade patrolling the mist-choked highlands of the Scottish borders in 1892, and you are walking toward the village of...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews