Ruth sort of laughs at that, mostly breath. "No pardon, no murder yet."

Unfortunately, it's not much to go off of. Wood and darkness don't promise anything especially meaningful--it just sounds like a shack out in a forest. Notable for the fact that she hasn't come across any forests, completely unhelpful insofar as they're closed off from the outside world anyway.

"I could yes, sorry try it," she offers, her stomach already cramping at the thought of throwing up again. There's a sort of dubiousness in her voice, like she hasn't decided whether it's a good idea or not. (She hasn't. All she knows is that part of her bristles at being held back from her senses.) "The mirrors. Sorry."