The Golden Compass
The boy had three teeth missing in his upper jaw and a coat that had been mended so many times it resembled a patchwork quilt of gray rags. His name was Silas, and he was twelve, though he looked older. Older and thinner. In the village of Oakhaven, which sat in a hollow of hills where the mist never quite lifted, Silas was known for two things: his silence and his hands. His hands were always...
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