Darina glanced up at the sound of the man’s laughter. To her credit, she didn’t flinch or recoil when her keen eyes finally paid attention to his features, catching a brief but clear sight of the scaly skin and his scarred face before flickering away, looking back at the unconscious giant. It was still a surprise, but the tension around them had helped dull, or at least divert, the shock. Still, she grimaced, mostly due to his answer. She hadn’t heard of a mutation like that before, and it was more frightening than his appearance, which, especially compared to Rock Hammer, was a relatively mild disfigurement, anyway. Good god, a man who could kill with a breath.<br/><br/>Before she could say anything further, she heard the whistle of rock through the air a fraction before everyone else noticed it. Her warning for Viktor died in her throat, too late, really, and she watched the blood pour out of the cut that the projectile had left on his skin. That would sting. Around them, the musk of fear and bubbling rage grew thicker, their yelling assaulting her senses. She frowned at the drawn weapons, her ears picking up on the metallic clicks. If this situation degenerated into a gunfight, it wouldn’t be the first of its kind she would find herself in; living with bandits made it an occupational hazard, but it would be her first in a very long time she would be caught utterly unprepared.<br/><br/>In her frenzy to go after Rock Hammer to share their forbidden meal, she had hastily left most of her things back at the room the pale girl had taken them to. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath. Even as the crowd began to consider Viktor’s words and the man started giving orders to move out, her mind was on her pistol, her canteen, her supplies,<span style="font-style: italic">her absinthe!</span>. No way in hell was she leaving with just the clothes on her back and the knives in her belt. Why did she leave her gun in that bag? Why leave the bag at all? Amateur move. Granted, when push comes to shove she could maybe eke out a living with the hunting knife and the garrote wire, but it would be very difficult, even with her enhanced senses. She didn’t like the idea of being without a gun anywhere. She’d be as good as dead.<br/><br/>Figuring it would take the group a while to haul Rock Hammer’s bulk through the underground city and back to the gates, Darina quickly raised her hands and strode towards the nearest guard. “Hey, you—”<br/>“I just need to get my things,” she said flatly, her hands braised against her head in surrender. “I need them. I have first aid there, and water. If we’re going out there and aren’t coming back, I need my bag. You can come with me if you like.”<br/>The guard frowned, his hands tensing up on his weapon again, but after thinking it over he signaled another sentry who was walking with the Stalkers up ahead. The man trotted toward them, and the two conversed in hushed tones before the second man stood, waiting. To Darina he said, “I’m taking the knives. Keep your hands where I can see ‘em. Where is the room?”<br/>“That way,” she said, pointing to its general direction, “where the harvesters stayed.” She could tell from the look he gave that, thankfully, he knew who she was talking about. Obliging, she watched him step forward and unsheathe the hunting knife, mentally saying goodbye to it as the man jogged towards the place she had indicated. As the second man pointed his gun at her, she waited for what felt like a painfully long time before he emerged, carrying her backpack. She took it gratefully, though she noticed that it was a bit lighter, somehow; glancing back at the leering guard, she saw that he had taken most of her extra bullets. Fucker.<br/><br/>Not really wanting to check her bag in front of them, she slung it over her back again and ran after the others, making a mental note not to be parted with her things again unless someone killed her for it first. She was at the tail end of the somber procession; they looked like pallbearers. A few times when the bandits could afford, or could be bothered, to give a comrade a proper sendoff, she would watch as they lowered the makeshift coffin into the half-frozen earth. She knew Rock Hammer wasn’t dead, but the mood felt the same. God, she wanted to lie down and sleep; at her current state, she wouldn’t have much strength to contribute to the ones lifting Rock up. “Well,” she remarked to nobody in particular, “this could’ve gone much worse.”