The Sentinels my soul won't take

Dante was no healer, and he almost said as much - but thought better of it.  He wouldn't let his moodiness lead to conflict unnecessarily, and he wasn't abouit to risk losing Lasher's respect.  So he bit his tongue, and instead waited a couple of moments, urging his better nature to make an appearance.  Sometimes a few moments of thought could make all the difference in keeping a conversation on a somewhat positive bend.

"I don't have a great idea.  But the water would likely be a good start."  It stood to reason that anything of use would likely be near the stream, at least in Dante's logic.  He had explored the forest somewhat, but not to the extend that he would have liked, and in doing so, had paid more attention to prey and larger features than flora.  That had been a miss on his part.

"But your guess is probably as good as mine," he finished, not smiling but with a bit less ice than before.  He willed himself to relax, to not take out his irritation on this girl who seemed bound and determined to ignore it anyway.  Good of her, and he would likely later give her some credit for that.  Now he just found it doubly irritating.