Perhaps you'll see more of my kind soon. ...People here come and go like the wind. [Which is both happy and painful at the same time. That she knows very well. But Moro still thinks this is her forest, her home, her world. The truth is about to become very, very ugly.]

Mother, I'm not sure where you are from, but this isn't the home you once knew. You, I, and everyone else living here has been taken from our homes. Our separate worlds. ...Our captors are the ones who decide who comes and who goes and when.

[A pause.] ...That's why there are so little of my kind here.