He turned away and his hands grabbed something. A tiny purple Albertosaurus, and the note she’d given him with it. If she could’ve felt her chest, her heart would’ve skipped a beat.

Fitz? What kind of name was Fitz?

The drug lulled her toward a dreamless oblivion, but she fought back—clinging to the one memory that could shine a tiny spot of light in the thick, inky haze. A pair of beautiful aquamarine eyes.
Fitz’s eyes. Her first friend in her new life. Her first friend ever.

Fitz's door was closed, so she knocked before going in.
"I told you, Mr. Snuggles's visiting hours are over," he called through the door.
"What about your visiting hours?" she asked.
"Oh! I thought you were Keefe."
Sophie opened the door. "I get that a lot.

Any idea what the pattern is?” Dex asked
“I’m not sure.” Something felt familiar, a shadow of an idea, not formed enough to make sense. She poured through her memories, scrounging for the clue she was missing. The pieces clicked. “Elementine.”
“What’s the pattern?”
“I don’t know, but I know Elementine is right.

She was amazed Silveny had even let them get close enough to attach the reins. Clearly she needed to teach the glittering horse how to recognize pure evil.