It’s 5 AM. 1814 Spring. One of the roosters outside the pentagon lets out a ragged crow, the kind that slices through the quiet before sunrise. David hears it and turns his head toward his angel. Christy is still dreaming, a soft smile resting on her face, her hair spilled across the blanket like a halo.
He thinks she’s beautiful more beautiful than anything this mountain has ever shown him but the day is already tugging at him. I’ve gotta wake Michael… get my hunting gear together… today we...