She can cry if she wants. He wouldn't think less of her for it. Those big blue hands of his are as gentle as he can keep them, one arm around her shoulders and one hand petting over her hair.

They'd done it to control her. He can't even decide if there was love there. But they'd done it to control her, a kid, for reasons that were absolutely beyond vile to him. "They love ya like ya said, they'd know you weren't a witch. That said, I'm real sorry the people that saved ya didn't do that. How did the person what told ya know?"