I stitch, I point, I tremble, I sing. I mend torn cloth, guide the lost, and whisper when you’re low on fuel. Sharp, restless, small, I pierce before I heal. Who am I?

I’m not a woman though I hold many rings. I’m pretty round, not from this earth. I am also considered a giant. Who am I?

I appear in a bet, but I am not a guarantee. You might see me in the yard.

I once had a name, now none can recall, I whisper to shadows, I crawl and I fall. I love what destroys me, I hate what I crave What am I, the master and slave?

I have a bed, but never sleep; I have a head, but never weep; I have a mouth, but never talk; I often run, but cannot walk.