The Wistful Crossroads
Chapter One The stone country of the Burren stretched out under a sky that had not seen clear air in nine days, a landscape of braided reeds and cold limestone where the wind smelled of wet wool and rotting kelp. In the shadow of the night market’s dying lamps, Colm Dunne packed his kit, his hands steady despite the tremor in his jaw as he checked the oil on his rifle and the charge in his...
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