Summer afternoon light slanted through the workshop windows. Kael guided the carving knife along the wood grain, revealing the shape hidden inside. A bird, maybe. Or a fish. He wouldn't know until it told him.
"Let the wood speak," his father always said. "Don't force it."
Easy advice. Harder to follow. Kael wanted to see the final form now, not wait for it to emerge. But rushing led to split wood and ruined pieces. So he worked slowly, shaving off paper-thin curls that settled around his feet like snow.
Outside, Mira's laughter mixed with other children's voices. Some game involving a ball and lots of running. She'd been out there since lunch, probably grass-stained and sweaty by now. Their mother would fuss, but not too much. Summer was for being wild.
The knife slipped slightly. Kael paused and examined the wood. No damage. He adjusted his grip and continued. The shape was definitely bird-like now. Long neck, tucked wings. A sleeping swan?
Would Master Ashford teach wood carving too? Or just painting?
The question had haunted him for weeks. His father hadn't pressed, but Kael saw the hope in his eyes. A real trade for his son. Something respectable. Better than carpentry but still honest work.
Another curl of wood fell. The swan's neck was taking shape. Delicate work now. One wrong cut would snap it.
"Kael!" The door flew open. Mira stood silhouetted against the bright day, breathing hard. "Come see what I found!"
"I'm working."
"It's important! Really important!" She bounced on her toes. "Please?"
He set down the knife. Mira's definition of important ranged from interesting bugs to pretty clouds. But her eyes shone with unusual excitement. "Alright. But quickly."
She grabbed his hand and pulled him outside. The late afternoon sun was warm on his face. She led him past the vegetable garden, around the chicken coop, to the old stone well they rarely used anymore.
"Look!" She pointed at the grass near the well's base.
Something glinted in the green. Kael knelt for a closer look. A hairpin. Silver, with a blue stone set in an intricate pattern. The metalwork was finer than anything in Millhaven's shops. Tiny flowers and vines twisted around the stone, so detailed they seemed to move in the shifting light.
"Isn't it beautiful?" Mira crouched beside him. "I've never seen anything like it."
Neither had he. The blue stone caught the sun and threw it back in deep, cold sparkles. Like winter stars. Like frozen water. Kael reached out, then stopped. Something about it felt...
What? Special? Dangerous?
Don't be foolish. It was just a hairpin.
"Someone must have dropped it." He stood. "We should ask around. Something this nice, they'll want it back."
"But what if no one claims it?" Mira picked up the hairpin, turning it to catch the light. "Can I keep it then?"
"That's not how it works."
"But if no one wants it..." She clutched it to her chest. "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
She wasn't wrong. Even in her small hands, the hairpin seemed to glow with inner light. The craftsmanship was extraordinary. Each tiny vine had individual leaves. The blue stone had depths like the ocean.
"We'll show Mother and Father," Kael said. "They'll know what to do."
Mira's face fell. "They'll make me give it back."
"If it belongs to someone else, yes."
"But I found it!"
"Finding something doesn't make it yours." He softened his tone. "Come on. Maybe no one will claim it."
She trudged beside him back to the house, hairpin cradled like a baby bird. "I've never had anything really pretty. Not like the merchant daughters with their ribbons and lace."
Guilt twisted in his stomach. She was right. They lived comfortably, but there was little money for pretty things. Mira wore hand-me-downs from cousins and patched skirts. Her only jewelry was a wooden bead necklace Kael had made two winters ago.
Inside, their mother was starting dinner preparations. She looked up as they entered. "Back already? I thought you'd play until..."
Her words died as she saw the hairpin. "Where did you get that?"
"I found it!" Mira held it up. "By the old well. Isn't it beautiful?"
Their mother wiped her hands slowly on her apron. Kael noticed the gesture. She did that when thinking hard about something. "Let me see."
Mira reluctantly handed it over. Clarissa examined the hairpin, turning it in the window light. "This is... very fine work. Too fine to be lost accidentally."
"What do you mean?" Kael asked.
"I mean someone will be looking for this. It's worth..." She paused. "More than we make in a year."
Mira's shoulders sagged. "So I can't keep it."
"We'll ask at the market tomorrow. Check if anyone's missing it." Their mother handed it back. "But tonight, you can hold onto it. Carefully."
"Really?" Mira's face lit up.
"Really. But don't get attached. This belongs to someone important."
Their father arrived home as the sun touched the horizon. He admired the hairpin with appropriate seriousness, agreed it must be returned, but saw no harm in Mira keeping it one night.
"Just be careful," he said. "Something that valuable... well. Don't lose it."
Dinner passed with Mira unusually quiet. She kept touching her pocket where the hairpin rested. Kael tried to cheer her with jokes, but her smile didn't reach her eyes.
"It's not fair," she said finally. "Rich people have so many pretty things. Why can't I have just one?"
"Because it's not ours." Their father's voice was gentle but firm. "Taking what isn't ours, even if found, isn't right."
"I know." She pushed peas around her plate. "I just... I felt special holding it. Like a real lady."
"You are special." Their mother reached over to smooth Mira's hair. "With or without fancy pins."
After dinner, Kael showed his parents the swan carving's progress. They praised his improving skill. Mira barely looked, focused on the treasure in her pocket.
"Time for bed," their mother announced.
"Can I wear it?" Mira pulled out the hairpin. "Just tonight? Please?"
"I don't think..."
"Please, Mama? I'll be careful. I just want to feel pretty while I sleep."
Their parents exchanged glances. Kael saw his father shrug slightly. His mother sighed. "Alright. But pin it carefully so it doesn't fall out."
Mira flew upstairs. They heard her getting ready for bed, humming something tuneless and happy. When she came down to say goodnight, the hairpin glinted in her dark hair.
"See? It stays perfectly!" She twirled. "Don't I look like a princess?"
"The prettiest princess in Millhaven." Their father kissed her forehead. "Now off to bed."
She hugged them all, lingering longest with Kael. "Will you draw me wearing it tomorrow? Before we have to give it back?"
"If you wake up early enough."
"I will!" She scampered upstairs.
The family settled into evening routines. Vale worked on his ledgers. Clarissa mended a torn shirt. Kael returned to his swan, adding definition to the wings. The old dog, Rex, whined by the stairs.
"What's wrong, boy?" Kael looked up.
Rex whined again, tail tucked. He wouldn't go near the stairs.
"Probably smells a rat." Vale didn't look up from his numbers. "Check the pantry tomorrow."
But Rex loved hunting rats. Kael watched the dog retreat to his corner, as far from the stairs as possible. Strange. When had Rex ever been afraid of anything in the house?
The temperature seemed to drop. Just a cloud over the moon, probably. But Kael shivered and moved closer to the fire.
"Getting late," his mother said. "We should all rest."
They prepared for bed. Kael made sure the fire was banked, the doors latched. Normal evening tasks. Everything exactly as it always was.
Except for Rex, pressed into his corner.
Except for the chill that wouldn't leave.
Except for the way shadows seemed to gather at the top of the stairs.
Kael shook his head. Foolish thoughts. Too many of Mira's fantasy stories. He climbed to his room, pausing at her door. Silence inside. Good. She needed sleep after running around all day.
In his own bed, Kael stared at the ceiling. Tomorrow they'd return the hairpin. Mira would pout but accept it. Life would continue its comfortable pattern.
So why couldn't he shake this feeling? This certainty that something had shifted. Like the moment before a glass falls, when you see it tipping but can't move fast enough to catch it.
The house settled with familiar creaks. His parents' voices murmured through the wall, too low to make out words. Comforting sounds. Home sounds.
Kael pulled the blanket higher and closed his eyes.
Tomorrow would sort itself out.
Tomorrow always did.