...yeah. [ Ciri takes a long breath, shaking her head like a dog shaking off water, trying to get her thoughts straight.

She knows all this. And she does feel more herself with a weapon in hand, even if it's not her sword.

The madness around the Singularity has shaken her. The feeling of it-- like something reaching out, grasping fingers in the earth dragging everything in its path to hell. Except the Summoned, of course. Its chosen.

And she'd been part of it. She had helped; she'd felt it, the way her Chaos blended with the Singularity's power all around them, the way the earth fell away at her whim when she acknowledged that, however briefly.

Ciri knows she did it on purpose. When that mage had reached for Geralt, she'd wanted to kill all of them. And it had worked, more easily and more controlled than she'd ever managed to get her Scream before.

Scrubbing a sleeve over her face (smears the blood spatter more than cleaning it), Ciri tries to focus on the matter at hand. ]

We make a fire. Then we can split up to explore and have a point to return to. Get the lay of the land, move when we have a better idea.

Without oil, we won't have torches long.