Flying aimlessly feels easy. She'll find her mind feels clear and organized, racing with ideas. She might still be hungry, but it's a distant feeling now, easy to ignore.

Flying towards Marcille, though, is a struggle. The closer she gets, the trickier the winds seem to be, fickle, shifting, always trying to thwart her. Still, she can eventually land next to her. Her back is to Harriet, and she doesn't turn to look. She seems to be gazing off at something beyond this blank space.