She stops when she gets to the ruins. They stretch before her, surrounding walls tumbled over the internal structures. The logic of the place is still visible, and from the depths surfaces a memory of the place when it was still intact, tall walls and elegant living spaces, wizards chatting in front of a child's eyes. It's not the only memory Hian has of the place. She also remembers the angry eyes of a toddler, being pushed forwards by his mother, and the petulant, spoilt tones saying "you're his kin," as though that made it all right for her to leave her child behind among the ruins with a near-stranger. Hian scowls, fingering the strap holding bow and arrows - and her lunch. Setting her doubts aside, she heads into the ruins.