Efaen does not respond to his gratitude, continuing down the hall and towards the Dome with an increasing sense of frustration. She should be trying to escape this place, not ingratiate herself with the Andalites here. What good was intelligence if her very presence could bring the Andalite military down on them?
Her feet, bare as a result of continuous morphing, touch the springy grass of the Dome and she sighs a little, letting some of the tension out of her shoulders. Reluctant as she may be to acknowledge and embrace her Andalite heritage, she does always feel more comfortable in the wide expanse of the Dome.
She walks a small distance away from the entryway, letting the illusion of the Homeworld envelop her. A brief, nagging sense of sadness tugs at her subconscious. The only memories she has of this place is being shunted aside, a vecol who threw her lot in with the Yeerks. Part of her wishes she could remember what the Homeworld had been to her before the memory wipe. It seemed like such a nice place, on the surface.
With some reluctance, she relinquishes her human form, shedding the morph and allowing her Andalite self to take precedence. She does so in the shade of one of the trees, uncomfortable with others watching her demorph, even with her natural aptitude for making the process less grizzly.
Once the process is complete, she steps from the shadows and breaks into a slow, somewhat hesitant trot, letting the grass beneath her hooves nourish her as she continues to contemplate.