PART 2 — THE THING IN THE PORCELAIN BOWL
The thing in the porcelain bowl began to move.
Rosalie nearly dropped the tweezers.
For several seconds, neither she nor Gideon moved.
The cabin seemed to shrink around them. Wind pressed against the windows, rattling the panes in their wooden frames, while the fire behind Gideon sent long shadows crawling across the floor.
Rosalie lowered the oil lamp.
The black object was no longer than the first joint of her finger.
At first she had thought it was some kind of insect.
But insects did not look like that.
One end was dark and hardened, almost metallic beneath the blood and wax coating it. Attached to it was a thin curl of something pale and fibrous.
Gideon leaned closer.
His face had gone strangely still.
