Veda gripped the reins attached to the bridle on her gray and white Thoroughbred. She could feel the wind whipping through her curly dark locks of hair and saw a small village on the horizon. She had been following a wide river upstream in hopes of reaching the next village in the lands. She had but a couple outdated maps with her, but she always trusted her instinct to bring her to civilization. She hadn't been wrong yet.

She hoped this village that she was nearing could use some of her potions and salves; business had been down lately because her old horse had fallen ill and perished. That had prevented her from traveling and selling her goods to nearby towns because she was adamant that she must pick out the perfect animal to be her transportation. It had taken her nearly a month to find this horse, and she was glad she had waited out that time, whatever financial troubles it cost her. She could tell this was a sturdy horse and would last her a long time. She always liked to bond with the animals she rode day and night with. She wanted a trustworthy horse because her lifestyle depended on it. Luckily another traveling merchant and brought a caravan with him and she pleaded to have this horse. With a little bribery he had sold it to her, and she knew this was the perfect horse for her. She could tell the moment she looked into the animal's eyes. They were strong and passionate, but kind an obedient and the same time.

The young woman eased her horse, named Saffron, to a quick trot as she neared the village. She watched as children ran around in the dirt, playing tag and fighting in play-battles. She inclined her head towards a woman who was working in the front gardens of a house and gave her a small smile. The tulips she were planting were a gorgeous maroon color. Veda brought her horse to a halt in front off the garden and swung herself of the noble animal, her green cloak floating around her thin frame.

"May I inquire as to what village I've come upon?" She asked in a gentle voice to the the gardener, a sweet smile on her face, although the woman could hardly make out her features for the hood of her cloak shrouded her face in the shadows.

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"Singing is like the celebration of oxygen." --Bjork