Northern Star

Начало книги

Hunter Kirkland collapsed in the damp, dusty hay of the abandoned loft. The wind blew over him, unhampered by rotting boards that marked the aging barn walls. The roof stood firm above, like a stubborn old man refusing to bow to the wrath of the storm. Slowly, with pain showing in his tired gray eyes, Hunter removed his uniform jacket. He laid it in the hay tenderly, not seeing the blood and dust of the present, only the pride of three years past when he'd been commissioned in the Union Army. The coat, like its wearer, had aged and suffered since that first day and bore little resemblance to its earlier self. Hunter covered the uniform with straw, hiding it along with his identity. His life would be worthless if the jacket were found.

Resting his head on the musty hay, Hunter tried to ignore the throbbing in his shoulder long enough to sleep. Rest was vital if he was ever going to make it back through the lines to camp. However, sleep eluded him as the pain washed over his body in long, icy waves.

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