(..) Whenever she passed me in the halls, she'd oink. So I prayed that she'd catch a horrible skin disease. A week after that, she came down with porridge plague. - Porridge plague? - You don't have it in the North? Your skin starts to look like boiled oats and eventually your face slides off and you die in agony. But that's awful. You're-- I believed you! Porridge plague. I'm an idiot. Don't say that. No, you're not. So what happened to Alanna? Oh, she grew up to be (..)