Presley frowns, glancing back at Des. "They weren't in Wyatt's memory..." And he's heard worse in these memories than a little wind. Given some of the nasties that the trees has dropped on them so far, Presley isn't eager to see what's waiting outside.

"Not a lot of room to fight here," he warns Des. "Can you see it?" Presley moves his hand from the crystal ball, and tries a tarot card instead. The Tower? Not exactly a cheerful image.