This is the closest thing she has to the Jungle. Here, there is no sand and no great ocean that leaves a broken barricade to their home. There are no dunes rolling atop of the Cliffside pretending to be towering sentinels. Here, she still senses the Jungle and can picture the dense canopy hanging overhead and hear the monkeys screaming to one another. Here, she can allow her imagination and her memories to run rampant. She can be an Amazon here.
In Nerine she is a shell of herself, an outcast that the world knows nothing to do with. There are caves if she wants to hide and there is a tide if she ever wants to swim (but she wasn’t created for that). It just isn’t right; the coast is an alien world that she associates with the beach that harbored corpses and lost tales.
The forest is often her escape when the silence of Nerine ignites her thoughts and memories to flash around her. Here she can find distractions even if they are mild. The coast – and even the sisterhood – aren’t calling to her anymore. She isn’t a pawn and she is beginning to question her loyalty to the quiet land. Everything they were has dissipated and she wonders if the Amazons are now an extinct breed. Shuddering at the thought Nayl continues on and takes a few wrapping steps around an oak tree. Its shade tumbles down her back and dapples her piebald coat. She doesn’t look for anyone in particular, but simply welcomes the different sights and sounds.
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