It's late afternoon, in the no-god's-land leading up to her destination of the moment, and Tava has mostly tuned out her charge's voice - argument 5b on why gods can't exist: they're just the norms of their communities; she's heard it twice this week and no fewer than a dozen times overall - and is examining something odd.
"'Raavi?" she strokes the vial of trail dust on its cord around her neck; not strictly necessary, but comforting.
"This road isn't, say, seasonal, right?"
There's a pause. "Not that I know of, but I haven't had a cartographer out this way recently. Is something wrong?"
"Dunno; it's just been a while since we've seen anyone, and I'm sensing maybe a third the traffic I'd expect."
"That is odd. Keep me updated."
"Mmhmm." She turns her attention to her traveling companion.