"And yet the compass bothers you," he gently teased, glancing down to where Casey had pushed it along the bed. The charge in the air that had come with the Aurora's seemed a likely cause: his cards had yet to steer him wrong, and the sun, as best it could be made out, still went from one side of the canyon to the other.

"The lights might be affecting it; besides, this place is so small it might be worthless."

Casey's fussing drew him back out of the hammock, with a backward glance at the lights. Without that future sense to draw a finger down his back, he couldn't tell if they were phenomenon or warning, or something put there to distract from something else. Coming to sit next to the box on the bed, he traced a slim finger along its edge: "What are they for?"