The Distant Journey
Thorne, get down from that roof. The voice of Corporal Higgs was thin, stripped of its usual bark by the wind howling off the Blackwood ridge, but the command stuck in my ears like a splinter. I did not move. I sat on the edge of the slate shingles, my legs dangling over the drop into the yard where the frost had turned the grass to brittle needles, and I watched the smoke from the chimney curl...
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