She’d entered the moment Artemis had said somepony she’d been chasing was giving up. And, indeed, there was the ranger. Definitely the one she’d fought. Definitely the one she’d almost killed. She pushed up the ranger’s head and stared into her eyes. Not a hint of necromantic flame, nothing out of the ordinary. She wasn’t a thrall. What was up with her? And just to make things weirder, the ranger propped the door shut and started a fire without any asking. Bitterroot had given her a firestarter and some matches, barely able to look at her without confusion and guilt swamping her brain.