The Sentinels the wise man is one who never sets himself apart from other living things

The druid could hardly help the need to return to the sentinels. No matter how far he managed to wander through the wilds, no matter the company that he kept, he could not help but to allow his limbs to carry him back to the ruined wood.
 
It was true that the forest was nowhere what it had once been – the great mystic wood that had been occupied by his mother and her family. Knaven wasn’t the type to daydream, but he had found himself getting lost in his thoughts when he would pass through the ruins of Donnelaith. What had it really been like to reside in the wood and to protect its secrets? As he stepped through the dirt and ash, Knaven glanced toward the twisted bark of the trees that had once stood tall overhead and breathed a quiet sigh.

they were back at this unimpressive place. lionel had caught the scent of maia and wraen, passing through; he did not think they remained. and so it was he, knaven, and @Bijou. he had never understood the wolverine's pull to the place. his own was minute, centered around their mother.
but he would not grouse or grumble. as knaven stepped through the sentinels, lionel picked his own way among the burnwood and came to stand beside his brother, quiet.