The Sentinels my soul won't take

"I did not seek it," she answered softly, slowly, as if to announce this fact would put a nail in her coffin. Perhaps Dante would find more fault with her for admitting this, but she was being truthful. Raising her head from a clump of soil, she idly pawed at it, searching for something of value but also keeping herself occupied so that she didn't overthink the situation. "I was injured while travelling, and fate led Lasher to me. I woke up here, somehow." Though it was not something she had control over, Eigma was grateful for his kindness; that much was clear as she smiled warmly towards Dante. She did not admit to her growing attachment to the giant trees and birdsong, or the scent of the ocean wind.

"And you? How did you come to be here?" Whether she meant him specifically or the pack, she did not indicate. It was up to Dante to expound any relevant details he felt comfortable with. As he spoke, she returned to sussing out the different smells, nosing about the plants, and carefully gathering small things that seemed like a good addition to the cache. Thus far her efforts were bare, but she trusted the land would provide.