Earthquake Reveals Tunnel On Farmer’s Land, Then They See Where It Leads

Mother’s Mark

Marco leaned closer, his chest tightening. Next to one of the triangles were two initials: MW. The handwriting was jagged but familiar, even after all these years.

It was his mother’s. He had seen it on birthday cards, recipes, and notes she once left around the house. She had been here, and she’d marked this path herself.