A dishevelled young woman in mud-caked trousers emerges from the undergrowth.

"Cecilia?"

"Good evening." she greets them as though nothing is out of the ordinary. "I came to join you on your Wolfos hunt."

"Cecilia, what in the Goddess's name are you doing out here?" Laurel scalds her. "You shouldn't be wandering the Lost Woods alone! It's dangerous!"

"I'm a big girl, Laurel; I can handle myself." she assures him. "I used your trail of spores to find you just in time."

She holds up a bottle of familiar luminous liquid. Ezra's complexion turns white.

"D-Did you…collect all of the spores that we dropped?"

"Of course I did." she smiles triumphantly. "I thought you might be lost without them."

"We are lost without them!" he screams, shaking the birds from the trees.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no…" Dakota hyperventilates and starts to panic.

"Ok, I don't know who you think you are," Ningan squares up to the village girl with a scathing snarl. "But you have single-handedly jeopardised our only way out of here, therefore endangering the lives of not only us, but yourself. Congratulations."

Cecilia scoffs. "Do you realise you are talking to the future Mayor of Ordon?"

Ningan sneers. "Do you think I care? To me, you're just a dumb country cowgirl with no survival experience whatsoever trying to interfere where she is not wanted."

Cecilia gasps, taken aback by the ninja's cutting and callous words. "I…I just wanted to help!"

In floods of tears, she gallops off into the trees. Laurel calls after her, dropping everything to chase her before she finds herself in even more danger.

Ezra rubs his hands together. "I guess we'd better work on setting up camp."

Under the shadows of the tree canopy, Ezra constructs a campfire while Ningan stays on guard for monsters or any other unwelcome trespassers. Dakota nibbles nervously on her rations, praying to the firelight to chase away her nightmarish thoughts.

Meanwhile, Laurel fights his way through thorns and fallen trees in his pursuit of the runaway country girl. Each call of her name is muffled by the thick mesh of leaves and branches that blocks his way. The growing darkness cloaks any tracks she may have left behind. In his determination to rescue her from the jaws of the forest, he had foolishly lost himself in the heart of the labyrinth.

An unnerving chill rushes over his skin, causing the hairs to stand on end. How far had he ventured from the clearing where his friends had set up camp? There is no way of telling the time out here, let alone navigating: no stars, no moon; just the rustling leaves, trembling in the breeze.

Just as he surrenders to the state of being unfathomably lost, a nearby light catches his attention; a golden mirage in the darkness; a shape his eyes could only just recognise; round, feathered, with a hooked beak and bright golden eyes. The mystic creature turns its head and glares, enticing him with words:

Laurel had a little Cucco; its golden feathers glow.

And everywhere the Cucco went, Laurel was sure to go.

It squawks and strides off into the shadows. Laurel knew he had to follow; for what other choice did he have?