"Indeed.  I would hardly expect you to do so, yet.  Do you have a target?"

The wind blows in a specific direction, off the trail and uphill.

And she shall carefully follow, keeping her eyes peeled and her shortspear (read: her regular spear with some of the haft unscrewed, so it's less likely to snarl up in trees) ready.

The foe is a pair of ambushers. You approach soon. Watch the trees.

"...I am not sure," she admits, in a low, quiet voice, scanning the forest, "whether asking for you to point out which trees, and the facings, would be within the parameters of the challenge I've been set.  And it is not like I will always have friendly spirit attention, especially if the Mt. Marcy Killer is as the stories say."

My attention is not infinite. And yet. It is wise to ask me about the thing you are currently helping me with.

She describes the tree they're in. They're a pair of Toothblankets. The name is pretty self-explanatory.

And the Toothblankets can be introduced to her spear.

...She really ought to get a crossbow, or something like that.  It has spear-likeness points, as far as projectile weapons go.  And she's sure repeating crossbows exist, even if she hasn't seen one in person yet.

The first one spends enough time flailing around after being pierced that she has to quickly back away from the second, and it manages to lightly scratch one of her arms. But nothing worse than that.

Something about the wind shifts slightly when both are dead.

May I mark you to better remember you and nothing more?

Good thing she has armguards and a first-aid kit, then.

"You may."

It is done. You should go for now.

And go she will.

To her next stop, of course.

Culpeper Cut is the spirit of a large plain in the shadow of some hills that was clear-cut for logging and then left fallow for long enough that it turned into a grassland instead, and a spirit from a different region moved in. It's apparently erratic, but mostly harmless. The roads in are marked 'PRIVATE - KEEP OUT', but not, like, patrolled, or have cameras or anything.

...who even owns this place?

Well, the original lumber company folded but a trust was created in 1923 to hold onto the land and tried to sell it to farmers and then to suburban developers but that's when Culpeper Cut showed up and the Spirit Association stepped in and got Virginia to drop state property taxes and then tried to buy it but the state senate of Virginia tied it up in bureaucracy or something and-

-Uh-

-Suffice to say 'it's complicated, maybe nobody'.

...well, that means she could probably argue her way out of a trespassing charge given half a chance, and she's not even a lawyer.  ...Do the signs look like they receive upkeep?

Not really.

Yeah, she's going in, then.

So now she's hiking through a bunch of flat grassland.

There's a weird kinda-laughing sound off in the distance?

Great.  "Well, if that's you, Culpeper Cut, hello."

If it isn't...ugh, fire is so crude a weapon and yet it's what she has.   And a spear.  Can't forget the spear.

(But she needs more spears.)

The laughter cuts off.

This time it isn't a voice forming vaguely English words. Instead she's suddenly aware, having deep and certain knowledge, that Culpeper Cut doesn't get many visitors and is amused by her presence.

"I'm glad to have brightened your day.  ...That's really cool, however it is you're doing that."

Culpeper Cut is very weird. It thinks she should SUDDENLY HAVE AN EXTREMELY DETAILED MENTAL MODEL OF MONOCOT PLANT CELLULAR BIOLOGY.

!

She will take notes!

(because all knowledge is worth having and preserving; because knowledge is power; because she enjoys autistic infodumps and feels a fondness for Culpeper Cut because they, too, have a special interest -)

It's all slipping out of her head, far too fast to get everything down, but Culpeper Cut is excited that she's excited about the amazing wonderful intricacies of PLANT CELLS!

She can't help but grin fondly.  "You're a sweetie.  Are there any other people who come over to talk about plants with you?"