He started down the boardwalk. He flexed his shoulders a little to relieve the tight strain there. He stretched his wounded, aching, sweating hand to try to loosen it. His skin prickled. He wondered, suddenly, that he had no plan. But he had only to walk the streets of Warlock as a deputy must do, as was his duty and his right.
(It's better to create than destroy what's unnecessary)
Friday, March 21, 2008
Warlock - pg. 330
Labels: Oakley Hall
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment