Sequoia Coast poptarts are ravioli

The few days she needs to give her leg a rest aren’t... going according to plan. She’d wanted to get back to Drageda so she can rest properly, maybe have Portia look at it, but the limp slows her down and... is the swelling worse? Furi sighs as she trots along, finally freeing herself of the forest and out into the open. The limp is more pronounced, having put several days of wear and tear on it. Perhaps she should have just rested a few days in the middle of nowhere but the disadvantage is too great. 

At least she’s coastal and... sorta knows where she is. 

The sound of waves in the distance finally reach her, the salt rests heavy in the air, and she releases an audible sigh and resists the urge to collapse. To her left, she can see the stony tangle in the distance and the overwhelming sense of relief takes over. She’s not far from home, at least—home, she snorts—and she feels the bit of tension left over in her chest. Going back means possibly facing the problem and, to be honest, that’s the last thing she wants to do. 

You always run away.

Blixen’s voice in her head does nothing productive and instead of allowing her return, she veers off a little north, limping along until she can see the great expanse of the ocean. The cliffs are not visible where she stands and she searches for cover in the dunes, deciding she needs to rest before going any further.