Snow did have to think about that one. She couldn't quite recall how old she was when her father had first put Rose Red in her hands. After all, if she could remember her early years more clearly, she'd remember what her real name was. She knew she'd been ten when he'd had the opal set in the pommel, but that was as close as she could get. "I was small," she said finally. "My father had this gun made special for me." It was her pride and joy, as well as her comfort.