The Wanderer's Food Cart was damaged. The cleaver had split its frame, splinters jutting from the wound like broken bones. One wheel wobbled. The canvas covering hung torn. But the Cart remained upright, wheels still locked, blocking the path between Greaves and the chained Blade.
The Eternal Copper Pot lay on its side, water spilled, its interior still steaming with heat it maintained despite having no fire. The metal was dented where Greaves had kicked it aside, but its surface continued to pulse with warmth—not the patient, teaching warmth Marron knew, but something fiercer. Protective.
The Generous Ladle lay in the dirt where Greaves had thrown it, its handle dark, no green glow visible.
Three tools, damaged but not destroyed. Silent but not gone.
And while Greaves advanced on Aldric, while Marron screamed in her chains, while the Blade and Slicer sang their terrible duet of joy—the tools began to speak.
