Clair gradually turns back toward the main walkway from the branch.  "And did you believe yourself to be intruding, Miss Insta?"  Slow as molasses, he begins walking, his hoofsteps inaudible.  A gust of wind sends a pile of leaves into the path in front of him.  His horn glows and they part, leaving the cobbles clear once more.  "If you had," he continues, speech a bit faster than his pace but not by much, "I would question your decision to stay as long as you had."

His ear twitches and he flicks his ears in the direction of the grave Insta had left her scarf at.  "I think somepony is trying to get your attention.  She sounds rather irate."