“Rogue turned to her, his face no longer quite so hard. A curl of smoke rose from the pistol in his hand. Rotten apples fell from the tree, splatting at her feet. "Poor little girlie," he said, and there did seem to be pitty in his voice. "I told you you'd get your fingers bit.” WolfBronteRogueEmily BronteBitAlexander Rogue Book:Worlds of Ink and Shadow Source: Worlds of Ink and Shadow