The Golden Compass
Could a twelve-year-old boy save his father by breaking a thing? Ray Dobbs held the cracked golden compass in his palm, the weight of it cold against his skin, a heavy coin he had spent his last dime on at the general store in Pictou. The house in the fog hummed with a low, rhythmic vibration that matched the erratic breathing of his father, a domestic uncanny presence that had always been...
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