Dragoncrest Cliffs in a circle there they stand

She's looking for @Thuringwethil.

She was glad that the universe had brought her brother to her, for their reunion and chat had given Emaleth the tools she needed to cut through her own emotions and sort through what she truly wanted for herself. For so long, her identity had been tied to the Mayfair name and to the wood known as Donnelaith— and she wished to discover who she would be without them, standing on her own. She would remain ever loyal to her family, but the dark witch knew old patterns would haunt her if she were to live amongst them. Perhaps someday she would return; for now, she wished to be self-made.

Losing both of her parents had thrust adulthood on shoulders too young for it, and though the idea of a grand adventure across the Wilds to discover herself was appealing, Emaleth desired to lean on experience and stability. She had been tested, certainly, but she did not yet possess the wisdom of experience and age— it was why leadership had been so uncomfortable and undesirable to her. She had lived her life in peace, with no reason to learn to defend herself or to fight to keep it. It would pain Deirdre to learn of it, but the warrior's life appealed to her.

Perhaps she was in a rebellious phase, or perhaps this was who she was meant to be. Regardless of the reason, it felt more right than anything else ever had.

There was only one option in Emaleth's mind that would provide her with all she desired.

She had gone to the Sleeping Dragon, where Thuringwethil had said she made her home— but it seemed abandoned, and the rumbling and clouds of smoke made it seem as though it were actually a Waking Dragon. Emaleth had watched it for a time, but when her efforts to find the fierce woman that led Drageda proved fruitless, the yearling returned to the place where they had met. It seemed a slim chance, but she moved tentatively along the cliffside, mismatched eyes scouring the place for any sign of that dark silhouette.