For your reading pleasure, Tempest presents yet another exquisite example of romantic narrative
The Savage Hive
Waiting alone in the frost-blue frock he had so often praised, with the barbarian, unknowable scent of almond blossoms and frangipani wafting in from outside, the softly-sobbing Dorothy thought once more of Forsythe Hershey, the man she had belonged to so completely. He was now, according to three independent witnesses, seeking a new life as a Foreign Legionnaire.
|Return to a familiar clime||Your next carriage awaits|