Penny pressed her nose to the front window and waited for her father to come home. Her bear sat on the sill beside her, ready for another dragon hunt. Adrian had been gone all morning, and Penny did not know where his work was, no matter how many times she had tried to find it. She wanted him back. She wanted every minute with him. A soft thump on the doorstep made her ears perk up. Penny opened the door a crack and peeked outside. A black bird stood on the snowy step beside a small wooden perch dusted white. A folded letter lay at its feet, sealed with dark wax. The bird did not flinch. It watched her with steady, glassy eyes. Penny's fingers trembled, but she reached out and picked up the letter. The bird tilted its head, then lifted into the sky. Penny held the sealed letter against her chest. It had her father's name on it. She stepped back inside and shut the door, the letter heavy in her small hands. Penny set the letter on the table where her father would see it. She climbed back to the window with her bear and watched the sky. The wax seal stared up at her like a dark red eye. Something about it felt wrong. She hugged her bear tighter and waited for Adrian, sure that when he came home, he would know what to do. Penny propped her polar bear on the sill facing the door. His paws stuck out like a guard's. She told him to watch the letter and not to blink. The afternoon stretched long. When the door finally opened, Penny ran and Adrian caught her and swung her up. She pointed at the table. His smile thinned. He set her down gently, picked up the letter, and slid it into his coat without breaking the seal. "Stay inside tomorrow, Penny," he said. The letter was gone, but the wrongness stayed.