The impish girl's blue eyes grew wider and wider as the exciting tale went on. It was easy enough for her imagination to run away with a story, but Ash's gesturing and miming made it all the more real to Pete. She could almost see the great beast plowing its way through a forest, and the young hero of the story with his blade coming to save the day. Quietly she pondered what the beast had done to be slain. It did sound a terrible monster. Another thing nagged at Pete's mind. Why did the father have to first ask if he had slain the Jabberwock before offering an embrace and congratulations? Perhaps she was thinking too much on it, and it was simply done that way to preserve the rhythm of the poem. It was quite an enjoyable tale, nonetheless.

"I wonder if anyone's ever drawn a Jabberwock," Pete announced aloud, eyes sparkling with joy. "I bet it'd be gigantic, with hard, sharp, armoured scales. And teeth as long as my arms!" She giggled wildly at the thought, knowing that even if the creature did exist, it would have been long ago slain by the boy. Her laughter quieted, and her expression grew thoughtful now. "Y'know, being here, we'll have to be same as the boy. Huntin' monsters, I mean." Serious moments with Pete, however, did not last very long at a time. She leaned in toward the nearest bookshelf, scanning the titles as though what she wanted would conveniently be right there. "Maybe somebody wrote a book about the Jabberwock. Maybe there are pictures! What if there are more?" Pete turned to Ash at the last part, her mouth agape in awe at the idea. Could she just imagine such a thing?