Just then, a sudden noise snapped her back to the present, and only then did he feel a lightness around her neck. She instinctively reached for her compass—only to find it missing.
Her eyes darted down, and there it was, lying at her feet. But she saw the needle had stopped moving. She knelt quickly to pick it up, but a dancer in the crowd accidentally stepped on her hand, grinding sand into her scraped skin. The sting quickly shot up her arm.
Before she could react, a large hand reached down and picked up the compass.
Startled, she looked up to see Terence standing right in front of her, his face closer than she expected.
Suddenly, a wave of frustration surged through her chest. Maybe it was anger at his recklessness the day before, or the way he had unfairly scolded her earlier that morning. Maybe it was the way he had just avoided her gaze at the celebration—or maybe it was the barley wine amplifying her buried grievances.
Without thinking, she snatched the compass out of his hand.
Third Person's POV
Terence frowned as he looked at Halle, his tone softening slightly. “It’s broken. Let me fix it, and I’ll give it back to you.”