The Wistful Witness
The letter from the Ordnance Survey was thin, the paper brittle with age, and the ink had faded to a pale, washed-out grey that matched the sky over the Blackwood Ridge. Elias Thorne read it twice, his thumb rubbing the crease where the document had been folded, calculating the cost of the train ticket to the nearest station, the price of a new pair of boots, and the dwindling balance in his...
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