It was the thing she needed, even if Snow didn't realize it until her fingers were already burying themselves.

"My father was a white man. My mother was a Crow Indian. He..." she tried very hard not to fist her fingers in Trinket's fur, not wanting to yank and hurt him. "He took her by force. He used her up until she died. Then he forgot her."

She had told herself this story so many times, but only in the well-trodden terms of a fairy tale, to the point that it was more story than truth. This hurt like swallowing apples and glass. "Take that and put it on the scale of a whole continent."