“Your mother would be proud of ye, Lark,” he said before he stepped through the flap and let it fall behind him. I wondered if there was someone waiting for him, a woman who knew the worth of the little troll, and I said goodnight, the words sounding much like a spell. I pushed it outward and hoped he heard me, even as he walked away. Sleep my friend, with peaceful dreams, And never travel far from me.
