"I think he felt like making an ally. That's how wild houses and baronies and fiefdoms stay strong."

She shivers at the mention of Flagg. She barely remembers that name from other stories told long ago. She knows he is the cold howl in the dark. He is the blacknes that awaits the valiant, the hero, the girl trying her best. She'll face the King of the Lost any day.

A purple butterfly lands on her hand.

"Can I stay? Will you tell me more stories?"