Nazmi sat beside her sapling, deep in thought. The infantile tree had already doubled in size over the few weeks following the day it was planted, and begun to emanate with a slight magical aura. Being in its vicinity rejuvenated Nazmi greatly, which was why she had taken to coming to the small pocket oasis to visit it when she needed to think.
Having finally found a place that felt like home, Nazmi found herself thinking about her father more and more often. She longed to talk to him about her journey thus far, to explain her woes and sit beside him as she had as a child. Xanithe had always been a great listener, being the gentle and kind nymph that he was.
...However, despite the fact that she missed him dearly, there was something deep in the pit of her stomach that stirred at the thought of returning.
'You're so distraught, little one,' whispered a small, familiar voice in the back of Nazmi's mind.
