Riley is probably one of very few, if any, that can claim to be experienced with the fairies. She had technically, in a very loose sense, done battle with beasts far larger than herself, and she came out of it near unscathed. However, she was not prepared to face this weepy boy. Crying unnerved her. She never knew what to do. 

". . . I'm Riley," she said, slowly, as Arthur's crying subsided. "From Scalby parish. You wouldn't happen to know it, would you?" Probably not, sadly. Saying the name of her home, however, gave her some sort of hope. Scalby parish, where she was born. Where she would hunt for the fairies, dawn till dusk, if not filling her head with books of the old stories. She wanted to return to her mummy and da so much, it pained her heart. This boy was no different from her in that regard. She looked back at the shattered window, with its glass spilling across the ground in near-invisible shards of razor painfulness. "We probably should not go back that way."