Etna rides along on the flank of the convoy, her eyes to the woods, the peaks and the sky. Not truly taking in the scenery, her eyes are glazed over pensively. She considers how much closer now to her companions she is than she was in Gorna, even Oytmeet. I've missed having others at my back, people to trust. Always at the back if her mind however, is the haunting memory of betrayal. Am I wrong to fall so easily into trust again?
Throughout the ride, she hunts for her food. She talks scarcely, but it is easy to tell not so much out of malice. At stops she converses with animals there.