Jioni picked up her satchel.
“I don’t want to forget this again,” she mumbled under her breath.
Jioni then placed her hand inside: the first item she felt was cold-to-touch metal—the wrench nunchucks; the second thing, the two carrots she had placed inside last night—her stomach ached—but guilt overpowered the pain. Jioni wanted it, but didn’t want the help; she disregarded Derrin’s advice just this once and put it back. The third was the birthday compass, and the last item was unusual because she didn’t recall putting it there—thin paper.
