"Peanut butter and bacon?" Greta repeats incredulously. That isn't a flavor combination that's ever occurred to her before -- though, to be fair, peanut butter wasn't really a thing, back home. She follows Aggie over to her improvised seat, sweeping her skirt aside so she can join her.

It feels a bit ridiculous, really, the two of them just hunkered down in front of the cottage as if it might put on a show for them. Part of her wonders if it wouldn't be wiser to stay on their feet, in case the cottage's owner shows up and they need to make a hasty retreat. But the rumors haven't spoken of anyone living in the cottage, and they're far enough away that she doesn't think there's any immediate danger.

She's a little hesitant to try one of the sandwiches -- more because of the ingredients involved than because she thinks Aggie's done anything magical to them -- so she nods at the girl's book, instead. "Been reading up on the subject?" she asks. Her own story almost certainly isn't in there, but it still gives her a pang to see a book of fairy tales: stories similar to her own, and just as inaccessible.