Florence. Nov. 9th 1819
It is only four o'clock; but it is winter and the sun has already set: there are no clouds in the clear, frosty sky to reflect its slant beams, but the air itself is tinged with a slight roseate colour which is again reflected on the snow that covers the ground. I live in a lone cottage on a solitary, wide heath: no voice of life reaches me.
1867. The Civil War is over. Yet there is much unrest and resentment that lives on throughout the land, and in the hearts of many... Marco steps out of the ashes of the war; a man turned bounty hunter had everything which mattered most to him violently stripped away. So he emerges with a burning desire like none other to find redemption, and a new purpose in life. He sets off i...
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