Snow took back her gun, but rather than find anything to shoot she only ran her thumb over the red pearls and black opal set in the grip. They hadn't meant anything to her as a child, probably less to her now, and in between they'd caused her nothing but grief. Even so, they were part of Rose Red now. They were where the name had come from in the first place. It was a miracle that she still had this thing.

And yet right now, even being able to make her gun sing again was somehow a muted, gray thing.