Near the Border of Modern-Day Rhode Island and Connecticut
Fast as Lightning in the Sky could smell the smoke before he saw it. This wasn't normal smoke, like the kind blowing through all Mohegan or Narragansett villages, from fire pits roasting meat or boiling water for maize and beans. This was a thick, sickly-smelling smoke. A smoke that one could taste on his tongue. And the taste was foul, black, a portent of terrible things to come. A chill ran down Fast's spine as he . . .
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- The Grantville Gazette Staff