The Ring of Courage

Peterhead — 1912 — Morning. Katherine Sinclair stood at the edge of the harbour, the mist lifting to reveal still water and the faint scent of wet timber and salt. The silver ring pressed gently against her finger, engraved with the mark of Peter — a quiet reminder of courage rooted in holding fast. She had been given it after a winter when her family had needed her steadiness more than ever. The ring reminded her that courage was not in loud declarations, but in remaining when fear whispered to flee, in bearing burdens unseen. As sunlight touched the silver, it warmed against her skin, and Katherine felt the calm insistence of steadfastness: that endurance and presence could become a shield for those who depended upon her.