She does not need words to communicate. She sings, letting her words weave through the fog like cliff racers through the mountain smoke.

A place of safety... a place of rest... the bells are a friend, a message that speaks to even the basest functions of the brain. Follow, and you will find what you need.

Drelasa places her other hand over Shen Qingqiu's, gently massaging the back of his hand. She knows this place, where all is fear and confusion and dull sensation. Gently, she pulls him along, to a place where the ground is soft and a tree offers generous shade.