People called her Girl, or Nobody, or Hush, because she had never made a sound and no one had ever given her a real name. The night the snow fell purple over the peaks, she packed a crust of bread and started climbing. Under the mountain lived the dragon Vesper, who did not hoard gold. She hoarded names, stacked in the dark like cold little coins. The girl wanted just one. Her own.

Halfway up, the girl found an old man frozen stiff against a rock, still breathing slow. His eyes flicked open. 'You're going to the dragon,' he whispered. 'I went too, long ago. She took my name and I forgot the way home.' He pressed a small iron key into her cold hand.