5
All Hallows’ Eve
When Peter woke up, he was clutching the large amber piece in his right hand. He rubbed his eyes. He had slept all through the morning.
“Peter, hurry up,” his father shouted from the hallway.
“I am coming.” Quickly he put his hand under the pillow, found the smaller piece of amber, and stuffed both in his pocket. He ran his hands through his hair and pulled on his shoes.
Clare came out of the kitchen, drying her hands on her apron. Swiftly she brushed her hands over his jerkin and straightened out the collar of his shirt. Stepping back, she slipped a slice of bread into his hand.
Peter glanced at her gratefully. “How’s Effie doing?”
“Quiet right now,” Clare said. “When are you coming back?”
“I do not know. Soon.” Peter looked down. All he had thought about this m
