The motley group trudged back to the surface; Liliana kept her eyes forward, acknowledging the dark stares only in her periphery. A gust of wind bit into her exposed face, the darkness of night giving it an extra sharpness. Dziecko poked his snout from the high collar of her parka and gave a series of low, disgruntled squeaks, his sour expression oddly reminiscent of a small child in need of a nap. The blonde woman wasn’t sure how the little brat was tired enough to be cranky; he had been asleep in her coat for at least 85% of the day. Despite the tinge of jealousy, she snagged the piglet a short strip of dried vine from her satchel, which he wolfed down while keeping a disapproving eye on the outside world.<br/><br/>Liliana supposed that Stalkers must be strong as a rule, simply to live their chosen lifestyle, but she still felt a little impressed by their tenacity. She couldn’t even begin to guess how much the giant weighed. She casually leaned down and gripped one of his massive fingers from the one arm that trailed along the ground, lifting it as best she could. Even heavier than it looked. The slight woman promptly dropped the limb again, letting it resume its knuckle-drag across the lifeless soil of the surface. The Razorback’s passive aggressive grunting changed into affectionate chuffs as he smelled and saw the giant’s unconscious figure; Liliana vaguely wondered what he had done to be so well-regarded by such a worthless animal.<br/><br/>The hooded woman watched the leader of the Stalkers as he surveyed the crumbling foreground, probably scanning for a building that would be the least likely to come down on their heads. Her boot noisily kicked a bit of broken glass as she moved with the crew into the indicated shelter, and as they set down their dense cargo she murmured a polite “Thank you,” to whomever of them happened to be close enough to hear. Liliana dropped to a sitting position not far from Rock’s head with her back against a wall, exhaustion uncharacteristically evident, but the men lost no time in making the little ramshackle shithole as hospitable as possible. Within moments there was a small, glowing bit of warmth in the center of the room, throwing dramatic shadows of their group against the scarred walls.<br/><br/>Viktor piped up, his words echoed by the newly-helmetless face of the strange person in sign-bracers. A few more comments breezed back and forth in the thin heat, but Liliana’s attention drifted between making sure Rock was breathing and watching the puppy. She slouched forward even more so than usual and Dziecko squeezed unceremoniously from her coat, his coin-sized hooves making a little distinctive taps on the hard floor. Her eyes snapped to focus on the old man with the sandpaper pipes when he rejoined them; she felt muscles in her upper back tense without her permission as he touched Rock’s shoulder, but he only added to the conversation and found himself a place to relax.<br/><br/>The dead-eyed woman only dropped her shameless stare when his head hit his hands, the tired posture reminding her of the splattered blood on the floor during the confrontation. Her murky gaze flicked to Viktor’s bandaged head, then to the dried blood covering the self-inflicted injuries on the behemoth’s forehead. A hollow, faint resonance of emotion swirled in the back of her mind: the bloodshed, comparatively minor as it might have been, was still too much. The handful of people and scant resources they had scrounged up were hardly worth the walk from the harvester’s campsite, let alone the conflict. She slowly delved into her knapsack and withdrew the canteen, unscrewing the cap in one motion and taking a few gulps, her eyes closing almost before the container got re-capped. So tired. She felt a small, warm, bristly pressure lean against her leg closest to the unconscious mutant, and even without opening her eyes, she knew the little creature was watching him.