Traveling from Lightning Country to Fire Country.
Uriko was feeling extremely dissatisfied. Despite her best efforts, nothing at all had come of the time she'd spent in Kumogakure. The political tension that had been ready to bubble over when she'd arrived had all but dissipated since. True enough, it had left a sour taste in the mouths of citizens the world over, but this was hardly enough for the opportunistic nukenin to capitalize upon. Then there had been the chance encounters with two young shinobi. Both showed promise for a part in Uriko's machinations, but in truth had flattered to deceive. The kunoichi had even let herself believe that one of them could have taught her more about the vile affliction that plagued her. Instead, the whole experience had only served to exacerbate her troubles, which came to a head in an uncharacteristic loss of temper and reason in a neighboring settlement. Uriko had abandoned her mission in a fit of rage, too concerned with the war being waged across her own body than the conflict she'd been sent to incite. All in all, there had not been a journey quite so unsuccessful in the woman's entire personal history.

Worst of all, the experience had caused her mental health to suffer a considerable setback. Known by some for her lethal efficiency and by others for the unpredictable danger she presented, Uriko had always walked a fine line between acuity and instability. "What will they think of you know, my love?" The bodiless voice in her head had been interrupting every fifteen minutes or so, without fail, since she'd left Kumogakure. It had been met with silence each and every time. Save for now, more than three hours into her excursion, when the kunoichi snapped. "Don't call me that." She muttered sharply, quickening her pace and leaning into the headwind. The weather had grown steadily colder as the woman progressed into the southern mountain ranges between the Lightning Country and the Land of Frost. It wasn't the swiftest path, but it was the least populated. Drawing a cloak tighter to her breast, the kunoichi trudged onward.

By the time Uriko reached the warmer climate of the Hot Springs Country, dusk was beginning to fall. Stragglers from tourist groups wandered the otherwise lonely streets of Yugagakure, presumably looking for somewhere to eat. Head down, the woman strode purposefully past. There was something about this village - perhaps the humidity - that gave it and its inhabitants a sleepy demeanor. In their daze, the few who still ambled down the main thoroughfare took no absolutely notice of the female nukenin. They happily, ignorantly went about their own business and allowed her to simply glide through without fuss. Moving quickly as she was, Uriko reached the border to Konoha in record time. The houses and chalets had soon thinned, revealing great plains, thick with grasses. This had, in turn, given way to the dense forests that the Fire Country was best known for. Navigating her way through the natural maze of bark, branches and foliage required a keen sense of direction and more importantly, the courage to follow instinct. Disappearing into the darkness, Uriko only felt a hollow shell where her gut feeling used to be.