Slung over the woman's shoulder was a freshly killed fox, next to her full quiver of arrows. On her other shoulder was a bow larger than the girl herself, which nearly touched the ground, cutting its way through the grass at her feet. She gave Kregmar a quick glance and paid him all the attention she might a market farmer or a trinket salesman. She noted the trolls, but then fully fixated on Dren, who lay motionless under the netting. She walked over to him and knelt before him, cooing and gently stroking his nostrils, "Ohhhh, what a gorgeous dragon! Can you talk? I've never met a talking dragon before . I hope you can. Would you say something for me? Please? I bet you have a lovely, fearful voice. I bet you can breathe the hottest fire anyone has ever seen, can'cha boy?"
She smiled sweetly, the innocent parting of lips of a small child, blissfully unaware of the dangerous situation into which she had just blundered. Dren tried to warn her to get the hell out of there, but the trolls had already surrounded her. He furiously yanked at one of the stakes with his tail.
Kregmar's attention had been broken, and the menacing blackness in the air had already begun to dissipate into a deep purple bruise in the sky, throbbing but no longer growing. Kregmar seethed at the girl for the interruption, and the troll nearest her grabbed her roughly by the hair and held her aloft like a prize.
"Ow! Unhand me!" she wriggled in vain a good three feet from the ground. Her bow fell uselessly away.
Kregmar strode toward the girl heavy with gravity, his footsteps leaving behind smoldering, stamped grass in his wake. As he approached her he reared back one arm, and for an instant Dren thought the necromancer was going to cast something horrible. Instead the old being's fist clouted the young maiden's cheek with an ordinary blow, not of great strength but one struck with inimitable timing, as one of his demon rings sliced open her cheek cleaner than a razor. She squealed and put one hand to her cheek in shock, incapable of understanding such vile treatment of another human being. Dren felt bad that one so innocent should be soiled by Kregmar's black soul. Instantly the girl's shoulders heaved with massive, body rocking convulsions of sobs. The troll holding her chuckled.
As quickly as it started, the crying stopped, and the girl plucked the fox carcass from her shoulder and thrust it in Kregmar's face, "Here, take it. Old man Niccette paid me to rid his chicken farm of this little pest and let me keep it. I was going to sell its pelt at the market, but you can have it if you want it. It's all I have, please sir."
Kregmar grew infinitely impatient with this naive little girl, and he swatted away the fox as he thought of a quick and painless way to kill her and rid himself of the body so that the trolls would not have to bury it.