The Golden Quest
The mud of the Somme was not brown but a thick, sucking black that seemed to pull at Elias Thorne’s boots with a physical hunger. He stood frozen, his rifle jammed, the bolt stuck fast in the wet earth, while the gas cloud rolled over the trench lip, yellow and heavy as smoke from a burning factory. In that blinding, chemical haze, the figure emerging from the fog was not an enemy soldier but a...
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