He'll - pack with the assumption that he can save his sister. There's lots of non-perishable food, packing as much as possible with the least amount of weight. Water, too, but that one's a bit harder. It's always heavy. Whatever, that's fine, he'll just - obsessively pack some more things. Pack, pack, pack.
Predictably, he runs out of things to do. Except think. Which has become something of a minefield, lately. To keep him from doing something stupid. He can't think about Zevaia, can't think about the knife, can't think about the Dean and how insanely long it's taking him to get the smallest tidbits of information out of him. He can't think too much about obsessive ways to make sure Annie's safe, for fear of becoming some kind of psychotic, controlling stalker or something.
But trying to not think about Annie is a recipe for failure or insanity, so he distracts himself with - what ifs. What would have happened if he'd met her without the necklace's and tracker's side effects combination, what he would have done if she'd asked him to kiss her...
That helps the time pass by faster.
(He should probably get more people, wait. But he can't, he doesn't have time, the clock is ticking...)
They come across the place Aldaras remembers, and then they start finding corpses. Intermittently, without a mark on them, no supplies for travel, in inappropriate clothes for travel. Each one is thin and emaciated, with bleeding feet, and it's not difficult to figure out that they died of long-term exposure.
"Seems we're on the right track," sighs Aldaras.
"You should probably touch the necklace now, for safety. We might run into its radius at any time."
"All right, then. Let's keep going."
He'll keep the necklace out. For when they find any cut.
From here, they don't have a guide, but it's not like the cut are particularly subtle about where they go. A decent group of people going in the same direction at a steady pace with barely any rest through the wilderness is - pretty obvious, even to people inexperience with tracking.
They find their first cut the next day. Two people move faster than a group of shambling, emaciated cut, after all.
"Hey, it's okay," assures Aldaras. "We're here, I have an artifact that can uncut people." He produces a canteen and offers it to the poor woman. "You're free."
"... Your ankle seems to be twisted," he observes. "Do you feel any pain?"
"It's all right," assures Aldaras, again. "Okay? You're completely immune to the knife now, it's okay, you're free."
"I'll help you get home, but first we have to help the other people who are cut and - figure out what to do with the knife. Probably encase it in concrete and throw it in the ocean."
"Thank you," says Aldaras, and he retrieves some more water and food and offers it to her. Then, off to - chase down more cut.
It doesn't take very long for them to come across more of the cut. These are less immobile stragglers. The knife, and Aldaras's sister aren't in sight, yet.
Unfortunately (or fortunately) she seems to be one of the ones in better health. They might have a little bit of trouble poking her with the necklace.