Larksong Grotto Imaginary hands folding over you

Kelsier resisted the urge to frown as the man went on. It was worse than he'd hoped, but not quite so bad as to be dangerous, he thought. The man — Lestan — seemed harmless enough, if a little touched. But Kel was having a hard time making sense of his story, and knew from experience that most mad tales held some hint of the truth.
Call me Kel. The other one's Erzulie. She'll be back, Swiftcurrent Creek, he'd said. Kel would have to ask Erzulie if she knew of the pack when she returned. Tell me more about Reverie. He prompted. A doe, bleeding. Had Lestan done it himself? A hunt gone wrong maybe, a blow to the head — that would make sense.