The journey back to Mysthaven is mostly uneventful, though Anna takes off her shoes to walk in the river, enjoying the cool feel of water on her feet. As they approach the city gates, she slides the shoes back on, giggling at the ‘squish’ of every step.

The town is bustling as they enter, citizens running this way and that in a great hurry. Hope catches the arm of one wood elf lady with a panicked look on her face. “What’s going on, Miss?”

“It’s horrible!” the woman cries, pointing toward the square. “They grabbed a mother and child and started making demands!”

“What? What are you talking about?” Hope looks in the indicated direction, smoke rising from the square.

The woman shakes her head, her finger changing direction to accusingly gesture at Anna. “Her kind!” The wood elf’s face changes from panic to a stern glare. “You led them here, didn’t you, subterranean filth?!”

Anna steps back and is quickly blocked from the woman by Hope and Amsdeo. Tyrion steps forward and looks to the smoke. “Daft woman, we’ve been on a job since breakfast! Run along and let the professionals handle it.” The halfling wanders on, the party following closely behind. Anna’s face shifts gradually as they edge closer from worry to concern, back to worry, and finally settling on horrified realization. “Guys, wait-“

“Anastrianna! We know you’re here!” From around the corner comes a booming voice. The party turns the corner to find a pair of dark elves. One is large and hulking, hefting a warhammer over one shoulder. The other is thin and lithe, gripping a pair of twin sabers, each held to the throats of two people; a child and woman, both bearing the almond skin and golden locks of high elves. The woman calls to the child in Elvish, and the lithe figure drop presses the blade closer. “Careful. I will give them a very close shave if I need to.” A fruit cart sits turned over, its contents roasting in the flame that burns most of the cart.

Anna steps forward, holding her hands up submissively. “Elaran. Ravana. There’s no need to do this.”

“Anna, what are you doing?” Hope keeps a hand on the hilt of her sword as the elf moves steadily closer to the waiting assailants.

“Please.” Anna ignores Hopes and moves forward. “Let them go. I promise you’ll get no bother from me, just don’t do this.”

“Funny, she says that now, Ravana.” The lithe one loosens the edge of his blade on the elves. “But I seem to remember a girl who ran away from home without so much as a goodbye. And now here we are to take you back, and you say there’ll be no bother from you.”

“I swear on Her darkest shadows, you can take me back if these people go unharmed. If you do that…you can take me home.” Anna drops to her knees, clasping her hands together, her tongue shifting to the elegant and airy words of Elvish as she pleads.

“The hell they will.” Before the two dark elves can react, a bolt flies out from Tyrion’s crossbow, catching Ravana in her shoulder. “They’re not takin anyone anywhere.”

Ravana pulls the bolt out with a growl. “Big mistake, little man.” She holds the warhammer tight and leaps forward to bring it down on the halfling. There’s a clang of steel on steel as Hope raises her shield to block the blow. “Come on then, devilkin. Let’s go!”

Hope shoves the giant elf back. “Anna, get up! We need you in this!” Anna does not move. The devilkin draws her blade and thrusts it over her shield at Ravana, who uses the haft of the warhammer to parry the hit.

“Get up, Anna! Come on, don’t tell me you’re gonna mope there while we beat these bullies to a pulp!” Tyrion fires a bolt, and still Anna does not move.

Amadeo stands in front of the dark elf, raising his hands as a flicker of flame roars to life in his palm. “Wherever they’re going to take you isn’t a nice place to be, I’d imagine. If you let the strong get away with acts like this, the weak will always be trampled underfoot. Now stand up. There's people here who need people like us.” The wizard fires a bolt of flame into the dark elf's face. Elaran snarls and rushes into the fray. “Wrong answer, surface scum!” There’s a grunt of pain as one of the sabers pierces Amadeo through his stomach. He’s lifted up and dropped to the ground to lay in a pool of his own blood.