"We can't stay at the teahouse," Ffion says, frowning in thought. "It'll be evening soon... I know! We can go to the Bluebird Teahouse!" She stands up, gingerly putting weight on her sore ankle. "I should tell Seren where her brother is. Maybe she'll have an idea." She takes the hand Inric is holding out, and they vanish. Twenty feet from the clearing, Nazarchtharin raises their head from the undergrowth and stares at the shimmering air thoughtfully.