~~Tristan’s PoV~~
Although Bertie tells the story in his own way, mixing things up and doubling back on himself, as the words come out of him, I can hear it in my mother’s voice instead. I can hear almost every word in her soft, gentle lilt, and I can feel the warm touch of her hands as she held me close to her at night in the comfort of my childhood room.
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Once upon a time, there was a sleepy little village in the woods. Everyone knew everyone else, and every day was like the one before, until the day that the young man arrived.
He wandered into the middle of town in the late afternoon, when everyone was going home for their dinner. All the people of the village stopped to stare, for they were not used to new faces. One brave child went to ask if he was lost an
