I am free but I am flawed

Koros could not help but agree with the fae's precautions. If anyone from Raisa's old life happened to come upon her in her old state, those who might be of a more ambitious mindset, well... It could go poorly, to say the least. The less public her trauma, the better. It did not leave him many options, though. He would not risk revealing her weakness to the land's packs, and the rogues he had come across were admittedly less than qualified to aid her. "Your caution is more than warranted," he said quietly and with emotion. "Weakness is a dangerous thing. It leaves us with a beggar's few options, though." He was willing by that point to do almost anything. Despite the bounty of summer, so unlike the last, his days seemed drab and lifeless. Koros could not find joy as he once had, could hardly remember what life used to be like. Perhaps he was losing his mind as well. Raisa meanwhile would do nothing but stare. Stare, and blink only when necessity demanded it. Her mind had set in a loop feed, circulating around 'What is going on? I should stay and find out. This might be dangerous. What is going on?' Her tremors began to subside, however, and she drew in a ragged breath. Her muscles ached, and not in the sweet way she had once known, but with strain and fatigue and mistreatment. Blood pounded in her ears, a headache springing to life there. Her eyes narrowed against the pain, but would not close. No, she had to watch. Something was happening. She ought to go. But no, she had to watch.