Bramblepoint the glass ghost

She'd led @Julien past the mountains silently, gripped by some kind of nervous fit that has left her tense and weary since. Distance has done little to lessen the impending feeling of doom, the tug of something like a mixture of duty and morbid curiosity calling her back. We should turn back. Toward the mountains, She tells him over her shoulder, looking anywhere but his face. But I — need some time alone first.
She starts to walk faster, giving herself an excuse to tune out any response he may have as she heads toward a thick forest sprawled just past the meadow. The mountains are more diverse, she rationalizes, but she can't help feeling guilty for leading her brother in circles. She should have decided sooner, precious as their time is; she knows she can no longer afford the careless mistakes of her childhood, though part of her still mourns that freshly-closed chapter of her life. She slows to a halt, recalling the magic she'd felt as a child standing among the trees, singing to the moon and stars and hoping they might sing back. But now... she only sees an empty forest, dimming as the sun sets on an equally-empty world.