“A book,” Shou glares into the box, like he’ll be able to make something else appear, just by willing it.
Miranda glances up at him. “You don’t have to sound so disappointed. And look,” she holds up a frail-looking little burlap bag with SEEDS sewn into the front. “Not just a book.”
“It was so heavy, I just hoped it would be, I don’t know, something more interesting.”
“It’s heavy because it’s so thick. Lead, probably. If it were thinner, I doubt it would have lasted so long.” She opens the book, flips through a few pages. “It’s a journal.”