Jahana seeks out her new friend, her current muse, to share with her the revelation that the elven wildling has inspired within her.

She can't find her easily, not that she's surprised by that. So she leaves the parchment, coiled, at the Lion, with hopes that Alula will find it ... and that the elf can read.

Inside the scroll, it reads:

Crossroads

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Through tanglewood and whispering glades she roamed,

A daughter of the wilds, unbowed, untamed.

Her garb of fur and leather, earth-toned, combed

By winds that called her back from whence she came.

Yet now she stands where towers scrape the sky,

Where streets like rivers weave through stone and light.

With feathered locks and keen, unyielding eye,

She sees the swarm, yet finds their toil is right.

Like ants they build, yet kindness guides their hand,

A thousand voices shaping something vast.

She walks apart, yet learns to understand,

No longer bound by ghosts of ages past.

Though wild at heart, her steps now grace the street,

A dance of worlds where root and stone may meet.