As she worked, Grace felt more in tune with the stone than she ever had before, and that feeling was both exhilarating and worrying. It was exhilarating because she had always loved her gift and her art, even when it caused her hardship. However, it was worrying, because the only reason she could think of it getting stronger was that she was closer to the source of it, and as far as she knew the only sources of power in the Stone were gods. She had heard legends of gods who ignored humans as lesser beings, but nobody had ever told her a story of a benign god before. 

Even so, as her hands shaped the living stone she had held her entire life, she felt a mix of fear and comfort. The same kind of feeling as being held close as a storm rages outside. She wanted to call that power closer, to embrace that comforting solidity, but she looked at the two children near the cave entrance and restrained herself. If she was tricked into harming them, she could never forgive herself, no matter what she gained in return.