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.

The third name was a boy, Pip, who swept the square. His jar buzzed and rattled hard, glowing bright green. The note said he'd wished he could 'fly like the birds.' Wren ran outside just in time to see Pip drifting up over the rooftops, yelling for help.