Shay carried him the candle, making a huge show of not dropping it. Lonan rolled his eyes and poked the wick at the tangle of feathers and twigs until a spark caught. Shay crouched down next to the small fire, mesmerized by feeding wood inside and watching it be eaten at. He showed no sign of moving.
Lonan scooted around to the side of the stove, away from the smoke funneling upwards, and undid his bag. He pulled out the sheaf of draft sketchings he’d done before winter to compare with the sheaf he’d done during, and started checking through the dates. The face of the coast had been mulched by the storms this year. If not for his record-keeping, Lonan would have no idea how to sequence the images.
–“Lost and Found,” Elyan White
Knowing what to share is difficult. I’m doing a lot of work in the first five chapters. This is from the new chapter three–it didn’t actually exist in the previous draft!