Pomona Sheldon—the girl the other children called the Little Pomegranate—was standing in the middle of the garden, her tiny chest puffed out with a level of confidence that was frankly alarming for a three-year-old. She had just finished informing everyone within earshot that she, too, was a motherless child, and therefore she didn't have to follow the rules of "mere mortals."
"I don't have a mama!" she declared, her voice ringing out like a ceremonial herald horn. "But I don't cry! Because I am the Iron Pomegranate! I am strong!"
Ethan Gray stood by the porch, watching her with a raised eyebrow. Kid, you’ve got a head like a brick, he thought. If your mother heard you claiming she doesn't exist just to sound tough, she’d give you a scrubby-dub you’d never forget.
Ethan decided to provi
