Restlessness drove him out, into the gray light, louring cloud already swirling around the high peaks to the north.
Too many memories inside the stone and log cabin. Too many images he couldn’t shut out, not with exhaustion or whiskey. The crackle and spit of the hearth kept fading away, silence drawing close to wrap him in a mantle of the past, the way the cannon fire had faded and left him devoid of his senses when he’d seen…
