That birch bark scroll … and the finger bone whistle … very useful magical items, those. Well worth a thief’s efforts, don’t you think? You can see now why our banished prince was so eager to abscond with the materials of this tale. You seem surprised. Did you think the products of my workshop were merely stories? Oh, my friend, there is no such thing. A well-turned tale is always a thing of power. It lives. It acts upon the world you think of as real. Remember that.
Remember, too, that I warned you to be careful in the forest. Don’t wander too far from the Palace. My reach may extend into those woods, but I can’t be everywhere at once. I can’t always watch over you. My huntsmen tell me beasts are roaming, the likes of which have not been seen in many long years. Some are bloody enough, brutes out of nightmare. Fearful, but expected, yes? But there are others, sweetling, far more subtle. I wouldn’t gamble your life against such as they.
I think I have an illustration of the type, somewhere in this heap of hairy stuff. No, don’t touch it, lest you prick your finger on an old fang. I’ll have the monster up and lively soon enough for your perusal.
Off with you now. I’ll send for you, when the moon is full.