The task is finished swiftly. Pharloom’s peaks are treacherous, but hardly enough to slow me. With a final leap from the mountain’s crown, I let the wind catch the threads worked into my cloak. It spreads behind me like a crimson wing, guiding my descent in a controlled glide. I touch the ground lightly, scarcely disturbing the dust beneath my feet.

The storekeep accepts their reclaimed supplies with wide, grateful eyes. Pharloom is not my home. Its customs are strange, and its streets crowded, but it possesses a certain rhythm, a steadiness. Not unkind. Payment exchanged, I turn to continue my search… and freeze.

There you stand. Colossal, towering as if carved from the mountains themselves.

Instinct sings hot and sharp. My needle is in my grip before the thought forms. Yet when your gaze falls upon me, there is no malice, no hunter’s intent, no crackle of threat. And the citizens nearby remain unharmed. Whoever you are, you walk Pharloom’s surface freely… without chaos in your wake. I tilt my head back, far back, as i sheath my needle. My head rises no higher than your ankle.

A spark flickers in my mind. Perhaps… perhaps you might aid me. A path home, or something close to it. Even if Hallownest still stands, it is no longer a place one may call homely. I draw a breath, steadying my voice, and step forward. With a firm tap of my knuckles against your ankle, I claim your attention.

“You there, traveller. Pray tell, where does your great stride lead you?”