Snow adds yet another layer of white to her hair. She tries more than once to wake him, when he stops responding.

There are hot tears on her face, and then cold tears, and then hardening smears of ice.

Everyone's dead. Everyone's dead and I don't want to die.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

This isn't what happened --








The main dining hall is bright with banners and evergreen boughs and countless lit candles. Lord Frederick and Lady Johanna are seated at the high table, with all seven children -- the smallest of which twists around in her seat, heedless of her finery, to stare directly at Master Phil Connors with wide shocked eyes.

"You all right, Connors?" asks Bekah from the seat next to him; her tone's casual, but the look she's giving him is keen.