Catrina breathed in the freshish air of the street and squinted disdainfully upwards. She patted down her pockets and was pleased to find a flask with a hint of fire whiskey left in. Back in her happy place, the bad mood evaporated and she scanned the street. She had meant what she had said to the Kokiri but how he had taken it had seemed a little over the top. The Kokiri's forest had burned down, there would never be any more once they had died and yet this one was running around getting in fights like his life wasn't a rarity. It was logical to act out when traumatized but she wished he could see that every forest child left was a gift not to be thrown away without great consideration. It was a shame. Still, there was nothing she could do about it. The only thing she could control was what she wanted to do next. Which was...what? She was a little broke for just bumming around. Perhaps it was time to find a job. The monk let out an audible groan at the idea of working. Instead she flopped down on the edge of a hedge lining the street, maybe the spirits would send something to her in her time of need.