She hadn't gone much farther East than the Ridge, and for now Celandine wanted to keep it that way. She knew the mountain was out there, it's foreboding presence mocking her in some sick way. Like most things, the pale woman had decided she hated the mountain. She hated what it stood for, hated that her father still remained upon the heights, and yet there was some small part of her that missed it. Of course, the Argyris would never admit to having such a pathetic feeling towards something that could be considered little more than a landmark. Not even to herself, for her time there was done.
Thus, she found her paws pulling her North of the lagoon. She wouldn't be gone long, having chosen to stay behind and wait for the others, but patience was never one of her better traits.