On her way back from Pangea, she stops to stare at the Mountain.

There is little they can do about her homeland falling apart, if anything. There is certainly little they could do about her mother being missing, as well. They’ll rely on her to shape her own life, or at least, give it a try.

She’s on the way to the top before she even notices; she stops right there, where Oriash woke her from her feverish state. Enough, she thinks, she’s done enough for Beqanna. She shouldn’t go further. She should just go back and enjoy what she has.

But she misses her mother so.

She takes a deep breath, though it is a ragged one, shaking a little. And she continues. Calls out to the fae she knows are there, no longer the excited child she once was; fully expecting to get a task in return, or even no answer.

She waits, then speaks softly into the wind. ”I’d like to have something more of my mother. I don’t know if she passed me anything but the spots, but…” she trails a little, muses. ”If there’s anything there, I’d like to have it. To remember her by.”