She moved then, quickly gathering a few more items—another piece of cloth, a wooden comb with missing teeth.
Viktor's hand closed around something smooth in the corner pile.
He pulled it out.
A wooden piece, sleek and carved. Cylindrical. One end slightly bulbous, the wood polished from use until it gleamed even in the dim firelight filtering through the doorway.
About the length of his hand. Thick as two fingers pressed together.
Viktor held it up between them. "What is this?"
Mira's entire body went rigid.
Her eyes locked onto the object in his hand. Her mouth parted, lips twitching as blood drained from her face, then rushed back hotter than the flames outside. For a moment she just stood there, frozen like prey before a predator.
