Calaerwen now knew her attempt at a nondescript disguise was a failure. Just moments past yet another person had cast her a curious glance, this one a tough looking swordswoman. Nothing if not adaptable, Cal cast off the hood of her cloak and allowed it to fall behind her as she stepped into the middle of the now much more crowded streets. At least it provided a measure of relief. Under the warm midmorning sun, her hair had been starting to stick to the back of her neck and now she ran her fingers through the mass of red locks gratefully.<br/><br/>Hot, sticky, and more than a little frustrated, Cal let down the barriers around her mind to listen for thoughts about a group in green cloaks, with bronze amulets. She did not intrude on the sanctity of any minds; there was no need. These people practically shouted every thought or image, cluttering the air with their clumsy noise. A wave of homesickness hit the Altari girl as she thought of the secluded area in which she had trained with the Psionic monks. A peaceful place, filled with disciplined minds.<br/><br/>Jerking her back to the present, a confused thought about the amulets slipped through Cal’s mind.  She latched onto it hurriedly. It was an old merchant, not far from where she now stood, who had just been abruptly questioned about them. She saw in an instant that he knew nothing on the subject, but accompanied with the thought was an imperfect image of the woman who had questioned him. Cal smiled slightly. She had a lead!<br/><br/>Seen through the old man’s eyes the woman was fuzzy, her features somewhat distorted, but Cal was fairly certain she would recognize her. And so, she turned her feet in the direction the merchant had seen the dark haired woman go, stopping here and there at shops along the way.<br/><br/>Though she did not have much coin, Cal wanted to get a little something for Zephyr in the city as a peace offering. The Alftar girl believed she had made the best decision in entering the city alone, as she had not seen any drakes in the city, but she did not want her friend to stay mad. The petulant beast had been known to sulk for days once he’d had his feelings hurt. Calaerwen felt a little guilty. Zephyr was probably worrying about her now.<br/><br/>Then, suddenly, a glimpse of green. Her heart hammering in her chest, Cal quickly paid the vendor for the sweetmeats she had been looking at, and slowly turned around. The disappointment was like a large, dense stone weighing down her stomach, as she realized that the cloak belonged to some weather-beaten archer. Then, recognition. She was the one from the old merchant’s memory.<span style="font-style: italic"><span style="color: #FF0000">Follow or confront?</span></span>Cal wondered, pretending to eye some small trinket on a nearby tinker’s cart.