Location:Seven Peaks — Medicine Hall, Lower Workshop; The Hall
Date/Time:TC1857.02.20 – TC1857.02.26
The hand weighed about what a hand weighs.
That was the first thing wrong with it, and Raven stood in the lower workshop with it lying across both her palms and could not stop turning it over. It should have weighed more. Steel that color and that thickness ought to have sat in her hands like a tool, and it did not; it sat there like something that had been asleep. Warm along the back of it, cooler at the fingertips. When she tipped it, the fingers moved, not loosely — they settled, the way a hand settles when its owner is thinking about something else.
She put a fingertip against the pad of the thumb and pressed.
It pressed back.
"It'll do that until it's fitted," Hester Varden said, from the bench. "After that it stops doing it to strangers."
