The melted tin hisses and sputters as I drop it into the cold water. I roll up my sleeve and lift it out. Lara got little nubbly sprinkles that mean money, and Jonna’s resembled a crown, which means marriage or power.
Mine looks exactly like a werewolf. I drop it.
“Wow, that’s creepy,” Lara says. “You want a do-over?”
I nod, drop the offending thing into the ladle, and start melting it again.
Sputter. Hiss.
I fish it out.
The werewolf, again.
I scratch at the bite marks on my arm and wonder if I casting silver bullets is hard.
Author’s Note: Casting tin on New Year’s Eve to tell the future is a Finnish tradition, but what if you see something you don’t want to?
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