Grouse Thicket A black fly in your chardonnay.

The woman used a word she did not know, earning a slight turn of her head and pivot of her ears. But then she went on to speak freely of the packs in the area — none in detail, but with enough information to rouse interest in Minerva.

The thought of building a tribe here, where the ocean felt so far away, did not feel right at all; but then maybe that was what the Mother Sea and Moon had wanted after all? A change, a chance to show their daughters that another life awaits off of Kea Island. Minerva realized in that moment, while Wraen was still talking, that this could've been the entire purpose of her near-drowning. The baptism in the sea, the arrival to a new land within which she could spread her faith. This dawned on her as a gasp, as if she had kept her head under water for too long and her lungs begged for oxygen; it was a new thought, terrifying but enthralling, which made her smile and think of a possible future.

You are right, she adds when the woman has finished speaking. This is an opportunity. I will learn of the existing tribes, speak to people like you, learn of your ways. I will travel, I will grow - and maybe in doing so, find my place. It had been a unique experience, arriving here and speaking with a native rather than trying to overwhelm or convert them; she had enjoyed the conversation far more than she anticipated, and was thankful for the sage-like advice of the Matriarch. You are wise, commends Minerva easily. I will go and I will see the world. I hope your tribe fares well in the coming days.