The Distant Clue
The coal smoke in the barracks at Blackwood Garrison had a physical weight, a soot-heavy grit that settled in the lungs and the creases of the skin, turning the white shirts of the men into a uniform grey by the end of every shift. Elias Thorne sat on the edge of his narrow cot, the metal springs creaking under his stillness, his fingers working obsessively at the casing of his father’s pocket...
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