They all looked harmless because they dressed the part, deliberately. The nomad crones had given up their usual eldritch leather-and-plastic road gear. They now wore little hats, orthopedic shoes, and badly fitting floral prints. The young soldiers painstakingly obscured their tattoos with skin-colored sticks of wax. They had styled and combed their hair. They wore bright, up-tempo jackets and patterned leggings, presumably shoplifted from malls in some gated community. The Moderator army resembled a girl’s hockey team on a hunt for chocolate milk shakes.