The Pale Shadows
Thorne, the driver bellowed from the wet darkness beyond the glass, his voice cracking with a urgency that seemed to vibrate in the very timber of the carriage frame, is this your stop or are you going to let the fog take us both. Elias did not answer, for his hands were too occupied with the small, brass-cased pocket watch that lay open on his knee, its face obscured by a film of condensation...
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