Beneath Ceaseless Skies | Letters from a Travelling Man by W.J. Tattersdill
It wasn’t noon when we arrived—I could easily have gone on—but I’m completely exhausted and I’m hoping that a night’s rest will restore me. With any luck, I’ll be on the move bright and early, and the islands will be looking very different. We’ll see. I’m doing it wrong, I can tell. I’ll write again, Horviss.
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