“When I was a child, I saw the world in black and white. Huntsmen were enemies. Witches were friends. We were good, and they were evil. There was no in between. Then my mother tried to kill me, and suddenly, that sharp, clear-cut world shattered into a million pieces.” I brushed the tear from his cheek. “You can imagine my distress when a particularly tall, copper-haired Chasseur walked in and crushed what was left of those pieces to dust.”
