Early March, 1636
Marla Linder stopped. "What's that?" Her head tilted to one side.
"What?" her husband Franz Sylwester said. He moved a couple of steps past her in the snow, then stopped and looked back. "What?"
Marla turned slowly, head still tilted, almost as if she was hunting something. After a few moments, she stopped. "That," she said, pointing toward a nearby door.
Franz gave her an ‘are you jesting . . .
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