He hadn’t found what he’d meant to find, but his need to swipe and hoard something had been appeased for now.
The sound came again. There was a whistle to it, and a moan. It was almost a hiss, and it could’ve been a strangled gasp. Above all, it was quiet, and it seemed to have no source. It whispered.
I’ve got a lot of wishes about it, but you know what they say. ‘If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride.’” “I’ve never heard that before in my life, and I’m not sure I even know what it means.” “It means that you could spit in one hand and wish in the other, and we all know which hand’ll fill up quicker.