Giriel takes a deep breath. "The way of the Flower Kingdoms. The way of good land, warm rain, and warmer noodles. The way of sharing those noodles with someone whose touch makes your heart skip a beat and laughing with them when they order more chili than they can properly handle and have tears streaming down their face by the end of the meal. The way of travelers who feel safe to travel. The way of festivals and dancing and fireworks. The way of strong mountain cats who worship strength and the moon. The way of valiant knights old and young, of witches who know the land and the people, and priestesses with their little brown foxes who know it even better. The way of friends who will always offer a hand when you stumble. The way of lovers who can see your true heart and love you all the more for it. The way of trust."

And to make her point, Giriel takes her great dark sword and slowly, carefully, she turns it about and she sticks it into the wet and muddy earth, driving it down and down until the point hits hard ground and down further until it stands on its own. And she steps to the side, away from it, out of its reach. 

"The offer of the Flower Kingdoms is that if you look for help, you'll find it."

She supposes it's too much to hope that Kalaya might stumble out of the forest to really ram the point home, but Ven that both Giri and Peregrine can find her if they need her, and so can Ven herself.