Above the swamps I finally catch up in person, breathless, and laden with unsought loot. Greeika is just standing there. I imagine for a moment that she’s lost in some poetic reverie, taking in the sliver of moon perched over a rich high-elven structure jutting over the water. “Wow,” I say. “I caught up to you. This is great. Now we can--wait, you’re leaving. You’re running again. Hey, stop. HEY, LET’S TALK ABOUT THIS.” Greeika, to my surprise, types out a timid, “Hi,” in the chat box, but that’s it. She’s gone again and I haven’t the desire to pursue this any further. Once again I “leave group” and return alone to more familiar parts of the wood.