Not too far out of Old Korska, Oda scouted for a summer, and for the first time in her life wore cotton garments. The trails went deep into the rich, black earth, and the beast of war still alive and hungry in Llael had cleared the land of many of its inhabitants. In a narrow gorge, she saw a row of shattered black obelisks around which no vegetation grew. Locals said it was Orgoth, and avoided it. There was no way of telling. But she knew it was a bad and restless place, so she left it well alone. Still, its memory sometimes creeps into her dreams.<br/><br/>There is a bend in the Neves river Oda knows like the proverbial back of her hand. The pines there are tight-packed like a military formation, the ground loose and gravelly. Here the river is quiet, flowing at its own gently melodic rhythm. Few come and those who do don't stay for long. There are caves here, places of refuge and moss-grown, and a secluded bank where a jetty of stones juts into the water. She knows the gravel is soft here, she knows the caves can be made warm, she knows the water is cold, but shallow enough to bathe. When others ask her why this is her favourite place, she usually thinks for a moment, shrugs, and provides a brief and evasive answer.