There it was. Her long fingers closed around the familiar bit of metal hidden within her recently-deceased employer’s pockets, and as she withdrew the key she slipped it into her own coat without much ado. A bit more cursory shuffling through the cadaver’s clothing revealed a few extra rounds of ammunition and a wicked-looking knife, still strapped to his lower leg where he had kept it. Liliana yanked it rather unceremoniously from its straps and eyed the blade for a second, then added it to her growing pocket-collection. It must have been truly vicious, the attack that had decimated her company of rescuers; the clean knife of the leader bespoke of a speed that surpassed that of human thought.<br/><br/>Things just… happened with painful slowness, or incomprehensible speed. The Pollack faintly recalled that there had been a middle ground at one point, but… she couldn’t really remember it. Her blank face turned to the red-headed woman, noticing a distinctly uncomfortable aura radiating from her; a slight tightness to the jaw, eyes that appeared more inwardly focused than toward the bodies she rifled. For all the world, it looked merely as though she were still adjusting to the pungent, coppery-dank smell of excessive blood and sap; hardly an uncommon trait. Liliana wondered if people were<span style="font-style: italic">supposed</span>to be easily-inundated to a scent like that. To a scene like this.<br/><br/>Not that the man from earlier seemed to be having as much trouble. He had started salvaging almost the same instant as the blonde woman, and in a manner little different; his actions said this was matter of course for him. No flinching at the squelch of bloody snow beneath his feet or the stickiness of the raw sap beneath his fingertips; ironically enough, his reaction was probably considered far more normal than the auburn-haired lass’. But her wondering persisted.<br/><br/>When the steps of the giant rattled the blood-stained ground, Liliana’s gaze fell to him immediately. He had been very forthcoming in his ease of human flesh consumption, and there was a very dark smolder of curiosity that wondered if he would be so bold as to do it here. An even darker curiosity wondered if she would stop him. But for the moment, he seemed most interested in the cadaver of the tortoise, which was also currently the subject of practical man’s looting. Liliana saw him brace his massive limb against the dead creature, and her brain gave her one beautiful moment of self-defense: she shut her eyes just in time.<br/><br/>The thick, visceral sound tightened her esophagus into a knot, but she gave no outward sign and opened her eyes immediately afterward. Her stomach tightened invisibly as the oily, greasy smell of reptilian tannins punched her nose, but it was a purely physical response and she chose to ignore it. In fact, a perceptive or close individual would have noticed that she inhaled rather deeply, expanding her chest within the folds of her oversized coat. She would never forget this smell. The huge man promptly lay the unconscious figure with the wolf pup into his new carrier, then proceeded to seek out other treasures that would fit alongside him; namely, the twisted husks of broken bone that had once been men with names and voices. Somewhere in her head, the blonde woman knew that she was<span style="font-style: italic">supposed</span>to stop the behemoth’s storage of the harvesters for a later snack, but the shadows of her mind rolled forth again and reassured her. Why? What was the point?<br/><br/>She felt a stirring beneath the coat, right around her lower ribs. Liliana set one hand over the top of the squirming lump, preventing the Razorback’s little nose from poking out of its confines. “<span style="font-style: italic">Nie</span>, Dziecko. Stay,” she murmured almost imperceptibly. The bundle only nudged against her hand for a moment before stilling once more.<br/><br/>Realizing that she had been kneeling beside the shish-kabob’d corpse without searching for a few moments, she stood quickly and resumed her salvaging in Daniil, who lay on his back not far away. She knew he had a locket or some kind of jewelry that he kept on his person for sentimental value, but regardless of his pre-death impracticality it should be a pretty good trade back in Moscow. Seeming not to even notice the viscera that piled over his midsection or the bestial slash-marks across his face, she slipped the silver necklace and few extra rounds into her deep pockets, her mind beginning to empty as she worked. Between all of the people present, they must be nearly finished. She didn’t seem to notice or care that the auburn-haired woman had left for a moment, but she was keenly aware that the too-skinny merchant had been chattering to the lifeless figures almost constantly. His insanity was oddly comforting in this particular situation, though Liliana had no idea why she would feel such a way.<br/><br/>She dodged over to Zak, who had been neatly broken in half. Almost, anyway; a strip of flesh still connected the left side of his hip to the left side of his stomach, but it was no wider than Liliana’s own forearm. She easily gathered his valuables, noticing with a very wry thought that he had been considerably better-off than she was used to the harvesters being; a sack of metal bits, mostly old or tarnished but obviously worth something as well as a few bullets found themselves being transplanted into her possession. He also had a small tin of the same herbal paste that she had used not long ago on the two injured men, a canteen of liquor that was miraculously unbroken, and a key similar to the one she had recovered from her boss. The last item caused her to pause and study it for a moment, her unfocused eyes appearing to stare right past it. Well, whatever it kept secure was hers now. That was how it worked.<br/><br/>She finally stood, shoulders loose but even and spine languid. As her fingers wrapped around her hood to flip it back up, she tilted her head to the giant man’s baritone question.<br/><br/>Liliana didn’t answer right away, instead pausing half-frozen with her hands around the worn trim of her hood. A few slivers of aquamarine, like rays of light trying to break from a covered beam, shot from her pupils across the expanse of her irises; but they were gone almost immediately, and had been so slim that they may not have been there at all. A gust of vile-smelling wind tousled her pale locks, rustling her bang so that it swished completely back to reveal her entire face to the scent and sight.<br/><br/>“No.”<br/><br/>The faintest tinge of surety colored the mechanical word, but she did not turn to face the behemoth as she flipped up her hood and turned on her heel. Her footprints left vividly crimson indentations in the snow, and the wetness of the crunch slowly returned to a dry, soft crackling. Unseen in the recesses of her coat, the Polish woman closed her eyes again, as though reluctant to relinquish the horrific sensory trauma. She was finally back on the path, however, and with her typical nonchalance awaited the rest of the group. The keys had been the important things; with those in her possession, she believed it would be best to continue.