JOHN SEES A YOUNG GIRL of six, with her blonde hair braided into ponytails. She wears a bonnet and colorful dress that could have been from any of the last few centuries. A girl of six should not have such old eyes. Sixty would have been too young for those eyes. Six hundred would be about right.
The girl has a picnic basket beside her, and she sits in a small meadow surrounded by trees both small and large. The light could be the light from any time of the day, save for high noon, or darkest midnight. She looks at John, as though she expected him.
"Behold the Hand in the Uncanny Land," says the Girl. "Fated is He to see the Fae. In some worlds will he win the Day. In other worlds, he will fade away. In all the worlds, he will face the god, but first, must he face the King. Toss the bone
