[ The woman is correct, of course. With all the world-bouncing Gray has done in the past year, she's felt more than ever that her memories are the only possessions left to her aside from the scarring that now crosses her face. The thought of giving up one of the few things she thought were sacred to her is dismaying to say the least, an invasion of the self. But... ]

I don't know if we have much choice...

[ If there's something the woman can come up with, then Gray is all ears, but she herself isn't that clever or inventive. Maybe the woman is; she's certainly willful enough by the way she struggles to reach Gray. Meanwhile, Gray can barely muster the will to look between the woman and the Dryad. ]

Maybe... if we tell each other our memories... we can help each other remember afterward?

[ The Dryad continues haltingly and not at all helpfully:

Choose. Together. Give. Together. ]