Return of the gourds

Delight radiated off Caiside when Remi asked what his home had been like. Dyosh’ana. It’s beautiful, and boundless, and I have travelled nearly every corner of it. There was a wistfulness in Caisides voice, though talking about his lost home no longer elicited the same painful twinge in his chest that it once had. My favourite place was far to the north. There was a very old village, nestled at the foot of a volcano. He didn’t know how exactly the telepathy worked between attuned, but he tried to broadcast the memory of a simple stone in a rocky tundra, hardy flowers blooming and elk milling about. The notion of a whole species of creatures being violent was met with a snort. In his experience, there was a reason for behaviour, but this was not his world, and he supposed things didn’t have to follow his rules. What an irritating realization. Amalia...? Caiside echoed the familiar name, trying to put a face to it. Baker didn’t help him at first, but managed to shake loose a vague recollection. Shes in the loreseekers guild, isn’t she? I believe I’ve met her a few times. He should go pay her a visit, make a proper introduction. He could stand to be in the good graces of one of his fellow guild members. And what better excuse than this? Theres no way we’ll know unless we go ask. How much do you think she’d need to make something good? Caiside Stand still. The forest knows where you are. You must let it find you.