[h3]The Hunter's Dream[/h3]
The doll seemed to listen to Ophelia's part-recounting of events and part-random musings attentively, blinking her eyes several times in rapid succession at multiple points as she tried to keep up with all the information she was being asked to process all at once. While she was busy with that, the Shopkeeper – content for the time being to let the doll deal with Ophelia – began pulling out a series of items from the sack they had just received from themselves. First they poured in several bottles worth of what appeared to be blood, only to start throwing weird and macabre items into that blood. A strange, writhing bit of cord or string of some kind; a handful of flowers with pale, grayish petals surrounding a bright red center; a handful of pale, partially translucent slugs; and finally a lump of red flesh that looked anonymous from a distance, but to an attentive eye would resemble a stillborn fetus of some manner of creature. Once that was done the Shopkeeper simply stepped back, crossed their arms and seemed content to observe what everyone else were doing.

“Ah,” the doll vocalized once Ophelia finally stopped herself from speaking continuously, “it sounds as though this night continues to be very eventful, good Hunter. But I should point out that even the Great Ones are incapable of killing Great Ones; even if such was the Golden One's ambition, he would not be able to kill Flora. Also...” The doll lowered her eyes somewhat. “If Flora was dead, so would I be. She is what gives me life. So rest assured that wherever she may be, Flora is still alive.”