Van Meer rose from the ground like a ghost from a tomb. It was not yet dawn, cold and black beneath the trees. Frost was thin this deep in the forest, but there was a snap to the air and Van Meer's breath condensed on his mustache and beard. He walked among his stacked stones and hunkered down next to the three-day-old fire pit. He had no trouble finding his way. He wrapped his arms about his knees and . . .

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- The Grantville Gazette Staff