For a while, Ridahne was thinking she would have to come up with a suggestion just to get them moving. There was no way of knowing for sure where to go and so for all Ridahne knew, she could just proclaim a heading and go that way and it would be as good as any other. She tried to think of where she'd go if it came to it. North, she supposed. She'd never really been truly north in Siren lands, though she had met a few in her lifetime. That seemed like ages ago. They weren't found in Azurei often, if ever, since there was very little water that went through the barren desert. If they were seen at all, it was along the coastline where Ridahne grew up. Maybe they'd go east? But she was thankful that Darin finally decided, as she didn't have any real conviction about where to go. Her amber eyes scanned the thin leather's surface to the place that Darin was pointing and she swore she felt her blood run a little colder. The Tree. Darin was right, it did seem like a sound decision. It would make sense for the Gardener to see the Tree, and maybe they could gain some clues about what kind of place the Seed should be planted in. Ridahne did not voice it, but she felt a distinct hesitation. Not for Darin's sake, but for her own. It was said amongst her people that the Great Tree had strange powers, the most notable of which was to make it difficult for evil to gain a foothold in the world. But up close, she'd heard other stories. Stories of the soul or spirit of the tree peering into one's heart and bringing to the open everything that person kept hidden or forgot. Powers of introspection, of discernment. Ridahne did not know the truth of these rumors and stories, but still she was afraid of what she would see in herself when they arrived. Would she be satisfied with what was dredged from the past? Would she be satisfied with who she was? For the first time since Darin had met her, Ridahne looked visibly shaken. It was subtle, but enough of a change that it was noticeable. The elf woman was solemn as she nodded. "Yes..." she said slowly. "Yes, we should do that. Come then, let's go." She guided Tsura southeasterly and the two began their journey onward. The people of Greyrock had nothing against Darin, but they were spooked by Ridahne and wary of her, if not outright mad at her. Among them walked a killer, and she was not welcome there. Seeing her and her young apprentice ride away brought a bit of relief to them all. Ridahne was silent for some time, riding just a bit ahead of Darin with her head down. Her hands were wrapped tightly around her reins, fingernails idly scratching at the worn leather. Finally after a long stretch of silence she checked Tsura's pace a bit so she was more even with Talbot and Darin and said, "I've seen it." The admission was soft, simple, but it held weight like a ship's anchor. Something about her tone seemed tight, restrained, and guarded in a practiced sort of way, but in its very coldness it betrayed how deeply the thought made her feel. "The tree. I...In my vision. I saw it and Ajoran told me I had screamed...I believe it. It's not..." she swallowed. "It's not good, Darin," she said softly. If there was any ambiguity about Ridahne's commitment to the mission, any question of her true intentions, that moment blew them all away. Despite Ridahne's practiced impassivity, the true, deep heartbreak at what she had seen in her vision was painfully evident. A traitor, an exile, and a killer she might be, but when all was said and done she wanted the Tree of Astra to be alive and whole, whatever that took. To see it otherwise broke her somewhere deep in the soul of her being. They left Greyrock behind. Back into the forested lands around it they went, picking their way through dense underbrush and trees with branches that intermingled with its neighbors'. Mitaja would disappear for a while and then reappear, and that seemed to simply be her way. Azurian hunting cats were given free range at all times, no cage or tether would do. Only the young kits were penned inside the house to teach them to trust their handlers and learn manners of the home. Mitaja enjoyed her freedom and made good use of it; once she came back with wet red stains in the fur of her face from her kill, the one she would have for herself and not surrender to her master to receive a portion of later. These kills were often small things, rabbits and the like.