She doesn't make analytical observations and plans; meditation is not like that. It is a series of ideas, concepts, observations, barely formed in words.

The plants are ripe, ready to seed its future, ready to be eaten, part of a cycle. The people are sick, they heal but the sickness spreads, a cycle at balance with itself. 

Aria is too Chaotic to risk doing Good; she has let herself drift out of balance. Meditation will help with that. A year spent meditating in a secluded location might do, but Tora would be bored.

Her actions are at one with the Chaotic freedom of inaction. Her healing, at one with the disease. Her magic, at one with its targets.

Herself, at one with the world around her.

Aria emerges from the field of corn mentally refreshed and centered and, incidentally, able to cast remove disease twice and delay disease once, and a few other useful spells for the day besides.

She walks back towards the sound of voices.

A lot of the people get antsy while Aria's away meditating; some of them leave; some others bring over their work, whether carding wool or carving things.

Osbald's sudden hope subsides into sick doubt.

Sveyn is reminding himself that he saw her skinchange.  He's pulled out a stick and knife to whittle something that could be a new handle.  His dog has come over, and perks up sniffing when Aria is coming back.

Casting spells is a much less involved affair than preparing them. She strides up to Osbald, touches the girl in his arms (who is much more alert after eating her berry) and says a few words in a language he does not recognize. There's no visible effect, but any remaining nausea will pass in a few rounds.

"You're cured of the disease," she tells the child. "Unlike natural healing, because your body did not fight off the disease on its own, it has not grown stronger against it. Avoid close contact with those still sick, if you can, or you may fall ill again."

Where are the other two she chose to help?

The girl jumps up and twirls in glee.

The other two are nearby, too.

Soon, people are crying and shouting with joy, and Aria is deluged in thanks and praise.

After the clamor of thanks has died down a bit, if Aria lets Osbald beckon her a bit away from the crowd, he asks her quietly, "Thank you, lady.  Where are you from?  You said... 'Avistan,' but I've never heard of anywhere like what you've been talking about?  And - where will you be going?"

(He glances behind himself to see his newly-healed daughter eavesdropping.  Oh well; he doesn't really mind if Aria doesn't.)

"They say the King might need some healing too."

(One of the other two received only a delay disease; Aria explained to him the consequences. He'll have a much better chance at throwing it off, come the morrow.)

"Avistan is the name of a continent, in some of the languages spoken there. It might have another name in your language." Tongues doesn't always translate proper names, but the more likely explanation is that no-one in his village knows the word for it and so the spell has nothing to go off. 

She sketches the rough outlines of the seven continents in the dirt with her staff. "All the lands of the world," she says, "and this one is Avistan. But I don't know where we are now. I will travel, and seek answers. Perhaps in Edoras, where you said your king dwells, or perhaps with this wizard, if I judge him safe to approach."

"Can you draw me a map of this land?" Landmarks and rough distances (in travel-days, not miles) will still be better than nothing. And she'd like to know the local names for the mountains she can see, and the nearby rivers and forests.

Osbald blinks at the world map.  He's never seen a map like that before.  "Maybe we're here?  Or here?"  He points to the western coasts of Vudra or Arcadia.

"They say the sea's off west, and there're more mountains to the north; the White Wizard lives at the end of them..."  He bends down and starts drawing in the dirt.  "... and the King's here in Edoras down the road, three days or so; and follow it more and you'll come to Mundburg in Gondor..."

(It's not a good map at all, or anywhere to scale once you get off the Road.  But it's a sketch of Rohan with the mountains and Great River on its edges, and little points on the edges for things like the Golden Wood, Dunland, Gondor, "they say the Black Land's off this way," and "they say the Sea's off this way.")

After a moment, his daughter comes up and starts dividing her stares between the maps and Aria herself.  "They say you're a skinchanger!" she bursts out.  "What do you change skin to?"

Every continent has a western coast, and every sea an eastern one; it is useless to speculate that way. Aria commits the map and the names to memory. 

Tongues renders the girl's question as 'what do you druid to?', which she doesn't care to take a guess at. "I don't know your language; I'm using a translation spell and it isn't perfect. What do you mean?"

(Osbald relaxes when Aria answers in a friendly way.)

"They say you turn into an animal?  Which animal?  Show me?"

She was going to do it anyway when she left, so she turns into a dire tiger again. She is half again as big as a normal tiger and much heavier, and has two huge fangs jutting out of her mouth.

"Druids learn to turn into animals by understanding them," she explains. "Living with them, talking to them, knowing who they are as well as we know humans or elves. I have lived a long life and met many animals, so I can turn into many kinds."

Osbald and his daughter both jump back from the dire tiger with a flash of fear.  She recovers first; he does a moment later on hearing Aria's human voice coming out of the beast's mouth.

"So if I learn to really understand dogs or cats, can I turn into them too!?" she asks with excitement.

A moment later, Osbald realizes that's actually a good question.  He squeezes her hand in approval.

"It requires years of training with other druids, in a druidic circle, to set one's feet on the path. And the druids refuse those who do not share their goals and beliefs. It is not a life undertaken lightly or easily, and wanting to turn into an animal is far from reason enough." She could say much more on the subject, but the child is unlikely to appreciate a discussion of the way druidic shapeshifting is almost the opposite of a polymorph spell.

"But do not let that dissuade you from understanding animals. Respecting them, caring for them, talking to them, learning their needs and wants if they live and work with you or if you hunt them, those are excellent things to desire for their own sake."

"The first truth one must learn to become a druid is that animals are people. Dogs, cats, humans, elves, we are different in many ways but we all think, feel, want, hurt, love, live, die. If you would be kind, be kind to all alike. When you favor your own over strangers - family, friends, neighbours, people - do it because they are yours, not because they are human."

"When you desire to understand dogs and cats for their own sake, as you do your human friends, and not for the sake of learning an art, then you will have taken the very first step towards understanding druids."

Her eyes go wide.  So that's how skinchanging works; you just need to make friends with the animals!  "Making friends with animals?  That sounds so fun!  I'm gonna watch the cats and dogs so well!"

(The part about needing a circle of skinchangers who turn away most people is totally lost on her.)

Osbald, on the other hand, is pondering the picture.  It does line up with some of the stories he's heard about them.  "I don't think we have any of those skinchanger circles here...  unless there're some of them among the Elves?  But the king's men would know more.  Or the White Wizard if he's willing to talk with you."

It's a pity the child isn't bright enough to appreciate her words, or wise enough to care, but her ambition and resolution aren't bad ones, for a child's life. Aria gives her a little nod.

And she will definitely chase up any rumours of a local druid circle! Not only would they be an excellent source of information, it is discourteous to act in another circle's lands without notice. She'll keep a metaphorical ear out.

"I will go to one of those next," she agrees. "If there is nothing else, I will take my leave of you."

"Farewell.  These are troubled times" -

He pauses, looking again at the giant tiger in front of him.  There's not much warning she actually needs, even aside from her magic.

"May you make them less troubled."

He and his daughter stand watching as she leaves.

Beyond the fields around the village, the Road runs through the lush grasslands of Rohan.  The horse herd that she saw in the distance before has moved away now, but she can still smell some smaller animals, and a hint of horses to the east.

There's also, of course, the Road running east toward the king's house, or west toward Dunland.

Aria intends to head east. Edoras is the nearest of the landmarks she was told about, and the people there should know more of the places she'd go next, even if they know little of the wider world. Before approaching a possibly-hostile wizard in his tower, she'd like to know if their trouble with him is merely a matter of local politics.

But first, of course, she'll catch up with Tora.

Tora's relaxing in a meadow, but perks up when she hears Aria approach.

"It's nice here," she remarks. "We should travel south for the winter more often."

"There's a sea and a desert in the way, dear, and you don't like being a goose. Anyway, experiencing all the seasons is good for us."

"Of course I don't like being a silly little goose! If I am to be a bird, I ought to be a majestic one, like a roc!"

"Well, we're here now, so we can enjoy our vacation while we figure out where 'here' is!"

"I am! What did you find out?"

"The humans claim there are no clerics in this land - no human clerics, at least, of any gods. It's very odd, and suspicious. I want to talk to someone better informed."

"Good riddance," Tora grumbles. "They should have more druids instead."