Walt Dorrman looked up at the cold blue skies of an early October morning and knew that it was time to go hunting. He went to his small but well loved gun collection and held them one by one, as if greeting old friends. He had grown up hunting; it was a tradition in his family as it had been for most West Virginians; the roads from Grantville now leading to Rudostaldt and Saalfeld instead of Fairmont and Monongah didn't change that. Walt pondered the forests of the Thüringerwald, could they bring him the pleasure that the West . . .
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- The Grantville Gazette Staff