Silvertip Mountain don't forget from whence you came

want to fade here/soon?

"Of course," Poet says. She's unable to keep the smile on her face from turning playful, a silght twinkle to her eye as she adds, "I'd be happy to teach you, sometime." Her gaze lingers on Phocion a beat, before looking back to Cortland, not wanting to make him feel awkward. Or more awkward than he surely already feels, perhaps.

She does not feel so tired, but watching the way Phocion's eyes flutter she surmises the poor boys must be. The ex-priestess nods, withdrawing from Cortland so that he may go rest. "I'll stay up a bit," she says, "I feel an urge to walk." Nights are comfortable for her, the press of dark a familiar friend despite all she's been through. She won't stray far from the group. Come morning they will find her still with them, ready to ready up the mountain as a permanent companion.