Thomas Kinkade Deer Creek Cottage

She'd wanted to save his life, and that was right. She knew it. As soon as she'd seen his name she . . . well, it was important. She'd inherited some of Death's memory. She couldn't have met the boy, but perhaps he had. She felt that the name and the face had established themselves so deeply in her mind now that the rest of her thoughts 'I can't help it,' said Buddy. He wanted to sleep, but a rhythm was bouncing around inside his head.
'I saw it too,' said Cliff. 'When we was walking here, you were bouncing along.' He looked under the table. 'And you is tapping your feet.'
'And you keep snapping your fingers,' said Glod.
'I can't stop thinking about the music'What'll you change it to?' said Glod.
'I thought . . . don't laugh . . . I thought . . . Cliff?' said Lias.
'Cliff?'
'Good troll name. Very stony. Very rocky. Nothing wrong with it,' said Cliff né Lias, defensively.
'Well . . . yes . . . but, I dunno, I mean