Role

Chapter 1

The little girl played on. The girl's little toy doll house the focus of
her rapt attention as the female screams pierced and fire burned outside the
cubby her mother had hidden her in. "Don't cry" she told the littlest
of the dolls as the heat and smoke that overwhelmed the outside doll shop
began to seep its ways into the cracks of the stone pantry behind the
Volarian doll shop's workbench. Her mother screamed as the frost giant
roared. This time was different. This time her mother died. This time the
ignition of the outlander fire the ultimate rage of the frost giant monster
that stalked her childhood. The fire that brought the death of her mother.

She stared at the family of dolls, so perfect, so different from her own, and
wished she was anywhere else. Her mother was good. Her little doll had a
father. But not all outlanders were good. And now her mother was dead.
"Don't cry little one." she told the tiniest doll. "YOUR father is good like

But wishing would not to make it so, and when morning came and the doll shop
lay in ruins, she was still there. She wasn't somewhere else. A little
girl, barely older than a toddler, opened up the stone cubby door, her
favorite tattered doll in hand and stepped over the corpse of her mother and
the vandalized doll shop that had housed and been frequented all too often by
the frost giant who "visited" her mother. Mothers were good. Her dolls
were good. She was good. She had kept quiet and stayed where her mother put
her. But now she was so very hungry.