Elara trudged through the fading mists, another puppet draped over her shoulder. She didn’t recognize this one. Then again, it wasn’t like she had known everyone in Verdant Grove, and the struggles that had come post-Collapse had made some people hard to recognize anyway. Emaciation tended to do that; like many of the others, they were distressingly light. Lighter than they should have been. The puppet twitched, trying to free itself again. Overlong nails awkwardly scraped at her well-defended side in a futile rebellion, while teeth came down and -

Crack.

She winced, the reaction hidden behind her new helmet.

At least it’s only a tooth this time.

Some of the puppets broke their bones, instead, before she had stumbled upon the idea of makeshift bindings to remove most of that risk. Once they stopped trying to kill her, some of the living roots that inhabited the area had turned out to be useful.

She’d have gone for some sort of gag, too, but there was always the risk that the puppets would choke on one. Elara didn’t trust them to react properly to that. Not before their strings were cut.

It would be fine. A broken tooth wouldn’t kill anyone. More importantly, it wouldn’t be enough to stymie their path to freedom overmuch. The broken limbs, on the other hand, sometimes did. The [Little Guardian’s Totem] couldn’t cut their strings quite as fast if they were injured. And with only one at hand for an upsetting number of victims, that was important. The process was slower than she’d like.

At least the tremors, way out in the distance, had finally stopped. Elara hoped that was a good sign. If it wasn’t…

She wiped away the anxiety with a careful pull of her strings. There was no time for it, and it wouldn’t help her here. They would be fine, and someone had to stay behind. A few of the crippled puppets had been in a bad place by the time she managed to return.

The judicious application of crippling tended to do that.

Elara continued to walk, her thoughts turning toward something more cheerful - like her newfound armor. It was surprisingly well-fitted for armor made for someone else, with only a bit of a gap here and there that Elara easily filled with some strategic padding. Its former owner was more muscular than she was, though that was something that Elara had already begun to fix. It couldn’t be done right away; as powerful as her bodily control was, there were limits. Still, she had enough control to at least begin the process, able to pull at strings here and there to cause her muscles to begin slowly growing.

Really, she should have been doing that already. Only starting the process now was forcing her to toe the line between strength and weakness; the energy for her body to use had to come from somewhere, and it had been a while since she had last eaten anything. If Elara wasn’t clamping down on the response, her stomach would have been rumbling with embarrassing volume.

That would have really detracted from the air of competence that she was trying to project.

“Got another one here,” she announced as she arrived at the clearing where the former puppets had gathered. Her voice was muffled, the helmet covering her face giving it a deeper tone than normal. “You, you, you, and you,” she said, picking out some of the armor-wearing former Guardsmen loitering about. “Come hold his limbs.”

The men scurried over, clearly apprehensive at the idea of risking more scratches and all that those wounds might entail, but unwilling to protest. Someone had to do it; that someone might as well be selected from the few individuals wearing a bit of protection, ragged as it was. The Guards’ uniforms were in poor shape, the occasional section of silk and leather tattered and frayed, but they were still better than nothing.

Besides, you didn’t argue with the woman in badass armor, especially when that armor was magic.

It had a way of making people listen, even when they didn’t want to.

Though, it didn’t stop one of them, lurking within the crowd of former puppets, from glaring at her. Another person she didn’t recognize. He had been in a bad mood ever since she had pulled him out of the mists, nearly spitting every time he saw her. Didn’t say why, and Elara didn’t bother to ask. She didn’t have time to waste, and it didn’t stop him from obeying orders. Later, she’d figure things out. There were too many things to do for the moment.

Maybe he just didn’t like being saved by a woman. Some men were like that. Stupid, when she was obviously a Seeker.

The man continued to stare at her. She waved. He visibly seethed, jerking his head away and talking animatedly to a nearby Guardsman. Peter, she thought his name was? Elara was pretty sure that she had met him while he was patrolling around the Market, once upon a time. Maybe. People in uniform could be hard to tell apart, sometimes. She mentally shrugged, putting it out of mind.

“I’m just about done with this area; there’s probably only a few stragglers left,” Elara announced. “After that, we’ll start to head back to safety. The tremors seem to have stopped, so everything should be cleared there.”

I hope, anyway. The [Little Guardian’s Totem] was still working, so Elara knew that the [Little Guardian’s Focus] hadn’t been broken by anything. That was as good a sign as she’d get.

Besides, it was hard to think of a way that the fight could end in defeat. Not with the power that the Little Guardian had recently displayed. The tiny snake had suddenly become a lot more dangerous.

As the [Little Guardian’s Totem] was placed against the newest rescuee’s skin, Elara began another trek towards the dwindling shroud of mist.

“...remarkable,” the woman remarked, peering at the glowing necklace that had severed her strings. Elara vaguely recognized her, though only just so. One of the Guardsmen - or in this case, Guardswomen - that had been caught within the mists. Her armor and weapons, bedraggled as they were, had made capturing the woman harder than many of the others, but Elara had long since moved past the point where anyone below a Seeker could particularly challenge her.

Though being able to momentarily shift into a shadow-state, courtesy of her newly acquired armor, had certainly helped.

Elara reached over, pulling the former puppet to her feet and recovering the [Little Guardian’s Totem]. The woman’s armor, a combination of unidentified monster leather, silk, and metal, clinked and creaked as she stood. Unfortunately, her spear had been left behind. It couldn’t be sheathed like a sword, and Elara only had so many hands.

“I can’t thank you enough for this. Being trapped in my own body, it was…” she paused, shuddering.

“I know,” Elara said, beating back her body’s own natural response to the memory. “Nobody could deserve something like that.”

Suddenly, the woman’s eyes widened.

“Is it guilt, then?” a voice called, filled with anger. The man with the glare, Elara realized. A multitude of hands wrapped around her, each finding hold on a different part of her armor. A dagger found its way to her throat - or it would have, if she hadn’t been ensconced in full-body armor. Still, the message was clear.

Even clearer was the fact that it wouldn’t be enough. Not the hands holding her, nor the dagger at her throat. With a thought, the black gem set into the armor’s center pulsed; Elara began to phase out of reality, shifting into ethereal shadow.

“Pity?” he continued. “Where was your guilt before? Where was your pity before?”

She stopped short, wanting to see what he would say. Elara wasn’t in any real danger; the moment that it seemed like she would be, she could shift into shadow and break free - but if she did that, it was unlikely that they’d continue to talk. If she was free, they would fight.

And she needed to know what was happening. Tilting her head, she could see that the man had somehow turned members of the Guard against her in her absence. That shouldn’t have been possible. Not after she had saved them. Not without a convincing reason.

So, instead, she stayed. She spoke. She questioned.

The answers would come.