The day after Tristan returns to Forsetidale, Vesta finds herself walking the road to Kog’Thrak with more urgency than she means to show. Her steps are quick, arms folded tight against herself. Her hair has been hastily twisted into a messy bun, loose curls falling free. Dark circles shadow her eyes, faintly puffy from a night that offered little rest. When the village comes into view, she slows. She stops just outside the entrance, hesitating. After a moment, she turns and takes several steps back the way she came, only to halt, jaw tightening. With a frustrated breath, she pivots again. Forward. Back. Forward once more. The indecision plays out in small, restless movements before she finally steels herself and steps inside. She approaches a guard and asks, as evenly as she can manage, where she might find Storm. Given a direction, she nods and moves on. As she walks through the village, she keeps her gaze forward and to herself, ignoring any looks that may follow her.

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