Dawn was already painting the sky by the time he showed up.
I was huddled on a hard plastic chair in the medical center hallway, Grandma's faded cardigan draped over my knees.
Mara sat right beside me. A raw, frostbitten gash ran across the back of her hand, wrapped up in fresh, crinkling gauze.
Ronan's boots thundered down the corridor, fast and frantic.
I did not bother lifting my head.
"Nora," Ronan said.
He stopped dead in front of me, his voice ragged, like something had ripped right through it.
"I had no idea this would happen," Ronan stammered.
"Where is the watch?"
He said nothing.
I finally dragged my eyes up to meet his.
"I asked you a question. Where is the pocket watch?"
Slowly, he pulled a tiny cloth pouch out of his coat pocket.
All that was inside was a snapped,
