The hunter clutched the gory package to his chest as he entered the room. Here, in the bad part of town, you could find every type of brigand at the stained tables. The clientele barely glanced up as he made his way to a table in the corner where an old wizard sat nursing whatever rotgut the barman was selling.

“You got it?”

“I did.” The hunter put the package on the table. Blood had soaked through the cloth wrapping.

The wizard opened it and grinned.

“Nothing like a princess’ heart to cure the ills of the world.” He handed the man a small packet filled with some kind of powder.

The hunter took it, thanked him, and strode home without looking back. He prayed that this would work. The heart of one girl with snow white skin, coal black hair and red lips for the life of his own dying daughter with her pale skin and even paler lips.

 

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