That jerky gait looked completely unnatural. His movement twitched and stalled, as if he were sampling little bursts of electricity with every step. And yet, it didn’t seem to bother the monk - he moved as if this bizarre style were his native rhythm, like a fish in water. At that moment, Suzy resumed her argument with her recently returned - from - vacation brain, which kept supplying her with increasingly banal metaphors.

  Meanwhile, the newcomer from the forest mumbled to himself:

  

  
• Three? Four? I see four: a girl, kind of like Freyja from the myths. A cosplayer, maybe? Then a young guy and another, smaller I see you, I do. And there's Boring Drury. Or was it Murky? Doesn’t matter - any nickname works. They’ve gathered here because they’re looking for things, right? The cruel truth doesn’t wound me…


  

  

  
• Who are you? - Grofo shouted. - You came out of the Are you part of the search team looking for Valdis? Though… judging by that outfit, probably not…


  
• Valdis? What is he talking about? - The stranger mumbled more urgently, flailing his - Why is this guy so hung up on my robe? What’s wrong with it? Foolish guy… ow!


  

  The reaction wasn’t without reason. Right before his eyes, Grofo scooped up a handful of rocks and started pelting him with them. At the same time, the boy yelled:

  

  
• Run!


  

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  The escape might’ve worked - if the stranger hadn’t pulled a gleaming, polished pistol from somewhere deep within his robe. He shook the weapon and said:

  

  
• When a gun appears, people usually calm down. I think that’s what’ll happen here. If not, I’ll shoot them once or twice - might take the edge For example, I don’t like that boy’s hand, the one throwing things at me. It could use a bit of discipline.


  

  With that, he fired - the bullet whizzing by just inches from Grofo’s hand. The boy dropped his ammunition in shock and, indeed, calmed right down.

  Everyone froze.

  Grofo realized that outrunning a hail of bullets wasn’t likely. This conclusion didn’t require much brainpower - which was fortunate, because his own head wasn’t exactly running at full capacity at the moment.

  The stranger’s voice - deep and rich - would’ve suited an opera singer far more than this ambiguous figure. And he conducted it masterfully, as he launched into a rambling monologue with himself:

  

  
• I did bring the bags, didn’t I? Yes, yes, memory didn’t fail I’ll get them now, hand them to the guys, and they’ll put them over their heads. Then I’ll take them home. Thanks, dear paleocortex - always dependable!


  

  Let them get some fresh air. Back home, I’ll need to feed them, and give them something to drink - otherwise I might seem like a rude host. What about Drury? Let him stay. I’ve gotten used to that icy parasite. I’ve grown fond of him. He’s like a mascot of this godforsaken place.

  And so he did.

  Still holding the gun in one hand, the monk pulled out spacious burlap sacks from beneath his robe, tossing them at the children’s feet one by one. Naturally, they slipped them on without a word - no one was eager to get shot.

  Just before the scene vanished, Suzy saw Drury sitting on the ground, one fist resting in the snow, the other raised in a gentle wave. He smiled so kindly that his meaning was clear - he was giving her his blessing.

  Thank you, new friend.