Shen sat quietly, leaning his back against the base of Ygg, the giant tree now lying sprawled over half a thousand paces of meadow. In life it must have been quite a thing; he didn't think a tree could grow that high. Now it lay destroyed, presumably by lightning, and the silent words of their hosts, Reynard and Merlin, spoke that this was somehow a sign of the state of Amber.

Shen didn't know what to make of this. He didn't know what to make of anything. He had been of little use in times of late, seemingly along for the ride. He had been powerless to escape Reynard's traps; had Griffin not been with him he might well now be dead, dried and smouldering on a sea of volcanic ash. His mother was gone as suddenly as she'd come, presumably trumped to a random place in shadow by some soulless machine designed by Reynard. His open approach to gaining allies seemed to fall uneasily with some of his companions, and though they'd been generally kind to him in demeanor, he felt for the first time in awhile that he was more a burden than an asset to them. And it didn't seem to be getting any better.

He sat obscured partially by thickening grasses and a few fallen boughs. He almost prefered to remain out of sight for awhile. He watched the others trot about, all seeming to have some understanding or potential to add to the scene, but he had nothing: no songs or spells, no knowledge of mirrors or shadowmaps, no secrets, no artifacts or magical cards kept cautiously hoarded amidst the acquisitions of their long journey.

In some senses, he was at peace with this. He trusted that this path was still his own in a way, laid out for him by the wind spirits. Surely they wouldn't leave him stranded somewhere out in shadow without some purpose, just as they hadn't led him astray in his leaving the Rheari. He knew he had been an asset, in at least his connection with the Eyriens, but now even Leiko was gone, lost somewhere in the Ni, and likely trapped there, alone.

He was happy to agree to Cecily's wish not to wait for trumps to be drawn, and he understood why, but he still imagined how much easier it might be to proceed with a few in hand. The kind of security they offered would be very welcome in this maddening chase full of invisible enemies, shadow traps and hidden agendas. But it wasn't to be, and maybe that was all part of the vikanshen, to conquer the fear and simply trust.

He thought on Fletcher, and how the hardened man would likely scorn such a thought. To him, it seemed, trust was a weakness your enemies would only exploit, and wisdom brought with it a discipline of suspicion that made trust a farse, something only given when it was secure enough to contradict its definition. Shen was starting to wonder about his own outlook, and he felt fairly certain that Fletcher wasn't wondering about his. Whether his doubts betrayed fallacy or the introspection that bears higher truth relative to Fletcher's confidence became itself a question, although enough of Shen's resolve remained that he at least felt he knew the answer ...for now.

He thought on Amber, and wondered if it would really hold some sort of perspective to make all of this clear. He wondered if he'd even get the chance to know, or if the human's trials might cause them to thresh our their assets before they got that far, or worse.

He leaned back against the memory of a tree and looked up into the sky. In his mind's eye he could see the lands around him, and he remembered the feeling of flying - even though the memory wasn't his. He set aside his questions, and drew out his flute. He played it at a whisper, and closing his eyes, took quiet revery in his uselessness at the moment, simply letting his daydreams soar over the landscape in his head.