So that's the 'does she even need to eat' problem sorted. She does not need to eat. Or drink. Or sleep. Just as well. It's not like there's much to salvage here. What a silly thought that turns out to have been. All there is to do is walk, or not. Go towards what might be sounds, or not. Just to mix it up a little, she changes her mind on which it'll be. It doesn't really change anything. As she's rapidly discovering, the tales of dangerous things in the Mists are the exception, not the rule. Mostly the Mists are just... very boring. Very dull. Very themselves. There's nothing to do. She can sit down and cry, and does so sometimes, but it's hardly very fulfilling. Or she can walk.
She does quite a lot of walking. She has no way to know how much, she doesn't have the patience to count her steps or count her heartbeats. She instead lets her mind drift off into amusing itself with logic puzzles of her own creation. Or the minutiae of songs half-remembered, or the layout of the streets of Arah, or her own home, or the college that she studied at. She thinks of stories her parents told her, of their time in the Guild Wars, of how the sacred streets of Arah had run red with blood, how they'd left and helped and decided to stay. Eventually, despite her reservations towards attracting attention, she starts toying with magic, creating little idle illusions to break up the monotony. That proves to be the best of the lot, with puzzles that stay still when she's not looking at them and don't change on a mind's idle whims.
The fear bleeds away. The anger at the idiots that caused this fate bleeds away. Her nervousness towards meeting unfortunate denizens of the Mists bleeds away. If anything, that last one sounds kind of interesting, at least it'd be something to do. She wonders, idly, if everything she feels is just going to fade into a general apathy, if the only thing she'll care about is stopping this unending monotony. She wonders how long she's been here. It's not like she knows. Less idly, she wonders if she should stop. She does have her knife, and she's starting to think she'd rather be in the Underworld than this fucking place. Would Grenth catch her if she died here? Or would she just wander some more in the Mists, her fate ultimately unchanged? She doesn't know, so she doesn't entertain the thought for very long.
What she does know is that she doesn't want this to be her end. She doesn't want to be the girl who killed herself in the Mists because going on was too dull. She wants to claw her way out of this godsforsaken place, breathe real air again, move her limbs and feel them tire, to hear the unmuffled sound of her feet beneath her and the breaths from her lungs and the wind around her. She wants to see something other than mist. Wants to talk to someone besides herself. Wants to hear song and dance to it and smile and laugh and be held by someone, anyone, and see her parents again, and see Arah again, and, and, and—
She goes on.
The sound changes. At first she thinks it might be her imagination finally beginning to unravel into madness, but—no. No, she's not imagining that, or if she is, it would break her heart not to act upon it. She sucks in a breath, and then she seizes the moment. She fumbles to the coins at her hip; who cares if she's without money at the end of this, she'll be out of the Mists. Which way is the sound getting less muffled, if she throws these coins in these directions which way makes the most noise?