Nana's wish shop smelled of cinnamon and warm brass. It was Wren's first morning as keeper, and the wishes woke up grumpy. Little glass jars glowed dim on the shelves, half-done and muttering, rattling against the wood. On the counter lay Nana's open ledger. Three names were underlined twice. Below them, in Nana's loopy writing: 'Mend these before the wishes turn, or they'll run wild by nightfall.' Wren swallowed and read the first name.