Beyond his own breaking point, Kira's preference for going into the trees alone was as much to do with his own methods for navigating. His hands hesitate on the cards in his pocket, in the presence of two possible naysayers. He could ask the direction to go, and they could look at him like he's crazy, argue against tactics without concrete results. Sonny believes in God but not this kind of miracle; Sam he doesn't know much beyond the man's ever-willingness to help.

But he is helping: Kira holds the stick in his other hand, uncracked, and glances between his taller companions. "I won't use it if we don't have to," he promises, moving it to the other back pocket of his jeans.

When both hands return, one is holding a card: if they don't like it, they can fuck off, or they can follow him around under the pretense that he's a lunatic they have to keep safe from himself. At this point, he doesn't care. Tipping it to the light, he makes out a spade. Glancing back at the hall to orient himself, he points to the north. "We need to go that way."