"It's very distinctive. The tree looks a lot older than it being 4717 implies."

"It's the work of several of us over weeks; it can hold third circle spells, now." Obviously, Plant Growth is in there, because it is what civilization cares about most. Then, realizing he doesn't have context, she adds: ".... Druids can record our spell scaffolding into trees, like wizards and books. The tree is practical, along with being distinctive."

"Huh! I suppose that stands to reason." He tests the draw of the bow. "Could I trouble you for some arrows?"

"Certainly."

She actually gets him a bag with a modest starting adventurer's kit, because she has learned at least one lesson from Lisandro, and has well and truly resigned herself to her fate. It contains a bedroll, a week of (elven) rations, a canteen, a healer's kit, a knife, fishing line and hook, flint and steel, and rope. She adds six dozen arrows, then after a moment's thought, a potion of Cure Light Wounds.

"There you are. Acceptable starter kit if all of civilization has abandoned you?"

He inspects the contents. "I should be able to bag a few suppers and something toothy enough to earn my way with this. And then I can get started on proclaiming your deeds to those who'll be interested. I gather from the obvious tree in the middle of Westcrown that it's fine if my old - constituency - knows where to find you. If you need soul-sold fifth-circle wizards anxious for your good graces for anything."

Nod. "It would be welcome, but is not required. Enjoy your second life."

He gives her a deep grateful bow. "If that is all you ask in exchange for it, how can I do otherwise?"

And then he attempts to take off, fails at this miserably, and, abashed, walks off instead.

Voshrelka is thankfully not the sort of elf who laughs anymore. She inclines her head, and returns to her work. She makes a note to herself that she's going to have to replenish the starter adventurer kit, and returns to penning the bestiary.