Feela backed away from the steam, remembering that it could burn her. Why these strange people kept the steam from their cooking pots in tubes baffled her, but wasn't worth figuring out. The smell of fresh death and burned Dark-folk filled the air here, and she found herself feeling foolish for having charged into this place for nothing. Just as she was about to turn back, a boy with a frightening black mask ran up to her and started making sounds at her. For a moment, Feela couldn't make sense of the noises, but before long an old part of her mind, long unused, started waking up again. Still, there were words she couldn't puzzle out in the things the boy said.

"Raas-or?" She said, trying to force the words out of her long unused voice. Frustrated by her failure, she screwed up her face and tried again. "Whaaaat es ah raaas-un?" The words came slowly to her memory, and didn't sound quite right, but she thought she had gotten close. Using words again felt strange, like the first time she had used her folk-weapons. Realizing the boy was still waving his hand at her, Feela followed uncertainly. She was lost and confused and more than a little scared. Dark-folk she could fight, but this place and it's baffling features were something else entirely.