Even something small like this becomes a loaded question for her. She remembers home, of course, can picture it clearly in all its beauty. But then the darkness comes in and all she can see is the way it had looked last, dark and desolate and dead. The Land of Departure was no more. Not really.

"Mountains, I guess," she answers, trying not to give away her thoughts. Despite her use of past tense, which will probably give her away. "The place where I grew up was more like a boarding school for warriors. But it was nestled among some mountains and we didn't have many visitors. Up one of those mountains was where our training spot was."