The boy tells you his name is Finn. He says it quickly, as if names are a toll he has learned to pay before adults will listen. His hands shake so badly that you take the shed latch from him and lift it yourself. Inside are folded fishing nets, an overturned dinghy, and a battery lantern still glowing beneath a blanket. Finn has been sleeping here. When you ask where his family is, he points toward the mainland without looking at the sea. Mara found him stealing bread three days ago. Instead of calling anyone, she made him soup and asked whether he could keep a secret. Finn says this with the baffled devotion of a child who has been treated kindly without understanding why. He reaches into his sweater and gives you a brass key. Its bow is cast in the shape of a bell. Mara told him to give it to the person who came carrying an old green suitcase. You glance at your case. Its handle is held together with the same strip of tape she once borrowed. Elias shut him in the shed this morning, Finn says. Not because of the key. Because Finn had seen a boat unloading after the harbour lamps were out. You wrap your navy coat around his shoulders. It reaches almost to his boots. He offers to take you to the woman who runs the coastwatch house, somewhere warm and safe. Before you leave, he touches your sleeve. Your sister wasn't running away from you, he says. She was trying to get everybody home.
A missing sister. A falsified signal. One storm to decide what the truth will cost Greyhaven.
Listen closely. Choose carefully. Carry the consequences.
Every path leaves a different story.