There were usually eyes on her. It was natural, in the days since they had passed the last remnants of the Strath's protection and out into the wilds of the world again, mostly there were eyes on her to make sure that she didn't drop puppies along the dirt somewhere. She didn't feel the bitter pains of labor yet, and she'd gathered as much of her herbs as she could to help her when that time came. Instead she slipped away while the others combed the shores, allowing them to hunt and do their business. She had her own business to attend to, squaring her shoulders as she stared at the tall trees of the forest she had once loved so dearly. 

All she could think now was the graves it harbored; Palisander still rested, and would always rest, inside it's border. All she was considering was that she could go in and at the very least gather the stone she had once adorned his grave with. It was all she needed. Then she would never pass into the Forest again. Before she'd even had a chance to hit it's edge she stopped; it seemed so daunting to consider to step foot inside the forest again after they had been forced to flee.