More than anything

"I can't even imagine," Greta replies, shaking her head. Not just the chaos that Anne is predicting, but what would happen if something like this were to occur in the Village. It wouldn't be impossible, perhaps the result of an evil spell of one kind or another. She thinks, with a twist of discomfort, that she probably would've been one of the mysteriously vanished: her disappearance an insignificant fraction of a larger problem. The spell would've been broken by some adventurer, perhaps a downtrodden wizard's apprentice with something to prove, and she would've been restored without any memory of what had occurred.

Not so different from this, then, presuming Darrow plays the part of the spellbreaker, as it inevitably does. Goodness knows the citizenry are good at forgetting whatever the place has subjected them to.

"Just as well it's happening here, I suppose," she concludes. It might not be business as usual, but at least strangeness is something the city's taught them all to accept, whatever form it might decide to take.

She softens a little at Anne's second nudge, reaching over to curl her (slightly floury) hand around Anne's fingers. "I'm lucky to have you," she replies quietly. "Don't know if I'd have the nerve for all this without backup." She might, she thinks — but knowing Anne would be with her had made it a far easier decision than it would've been, otherwise.