The Pale Letter
Vane. Vane, you bastard, move your arse or the shrapnel will do it for you. The voice of Corporal Miller cut through the damp cold of the trench, sharp and ragged, snapping Arthur Vane back from the fog of his calculations. Arthur wiped a smear of mud from his cheek, the grit biting into the skin, and looked toward the black, featureless void of No Man’s Land. He was thirty years old, a sapper...
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