A heavy hand rested on her shoulder, firmly holding her in place without being too forceful. The worgen's ears were perked forward, his full attention on the phenomenon ahead. Tery didn't like the vibe the fog was giving him. It felt like every hair on his body was trying to stand up and off his skin. One lip lifted in a faint snarl.<br/><br/>"Wot little I've 'eard is enough tae give pause, dove," he began, not seeming to notice the nickname. "If this is th' same thin', then it does affect people. Memories lost. Folks wander in, but if they come out, it ain' 'ere. An' they prob'ly wouldnae be able tae tell yae wot 'appened." He continued to stare warily at the fog, chest rising and falling like a bellows. He was rattled, certainly.<br/><br/>"There's other odds an' ends, none of 'em pretty. Plen'y o' folk disappearin', but none can rightly be called "dead" if there's nae body." He gave a growling, nervous chuckle. "O' course, if yae've nae soul left in th' body, are yae really alive...?" The "odd and ends" he had heard were rather bad, and he dared not recall them, so near the source of their creation.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>