Vera trudged through the marsh, her mind processing the last day at something of a numbed crawl. She was trying to stay as close as possible to Guy, and the safety he represented while at the same time paying careful attention to not be too close, as she sensed he was something of a powder keg of emotion ready to explode. His outward calm seemed a facade; he had just learned that his missing wife was likely not dead, but a prisoner of the overlord, held just out of reach of him. And the man who had been behind several of their recent actions may have known more than he let on all along. There was no telling what Guy might do to Relocks, but Vera intended to support him if she could. Depending on just how dangerous things became.
Vera wasn’t exactly sure how to feel about Felix’ death. The rogue had seemed dangerously unstable, pursuing more and more dangerous situations with growing disregard for his own safety, and it had finally caught up to him as he had marched off into the mist, disemboweled by one of the horrors of this accursed swamp. Had he been seeking death? Vera didn’t know, but the way he had died had been traumatic; Guy had been hurt deeply by it, she could tell, and she wished that it had not happened that way.
The priest, Liam, seemed to be in denial or something about his relationship with the insane hexagon-cult; it seemed they had been lucky to convince him to meet with Relocks before returning to the church that seemed to have it in for him, and he had only accidentally provided them with critical information. Learning about Fauna’s fate may have been worth the trip into the marsh; but beyond that, Vera wasn’t sure what value the man held for her or for Guy.
Somewhere ahead, Vera imagined she could see the lamplight of Lanhkmar in the night. She longed to return home, and dreamed of a proper bath and a night spent in a proper bed; maybe time spent with a friend to vent and confide in, if she could find Kiana or someone else she could trust. It had been a trying day, and the days ahead promised to be as bad or difficult. A few hours; an evening or afternoon to rest, then I can push on, Vera thought to herself.