The Wistful Saga
Chapter One The railway division of the Highland line hummed with the low, grinding friction of iron on stone, a sound that had worn a groove into the bones of the men who kept it running. In the shadow of the signal tower, where the fog clung to the scrub like wet wool, Duncan Rollo stood with his head bowed, listening to the silence that followed the last train. He was twenty-four, a junior...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews