When the Court King told her she’d have to slay a giant to save her mother’s life, Lara knew it would be difficult, but staring into its bulbous eyes, she felt her resolve trickle down her leg and pool around her feet.

Lara took a deep breath. “It’s just like the stray dog that hangs around the butcher’s, only its legs bend the wrong way,” she told herself. The wolf leaped towards her and, almost too late, she jumped out of the way and plunged the kitchen knife deep in its throat. It shrieked and collapsed to the forest floor with convulsions so mighty they shook its tail end from its body. She stared at the rump dashing between the trees. The pelt—costume—fell away from the head to reveal a little man, small as a child, bleeding out on the dead leaves.