It was therefore fortuitous that the prey both hunted held the same heading. Not together, and certainly not allies as the two men tentatively were, but their quarries nonetheless seemed to reconverge on one another more often than not. Suspiciously often, as a matter of fact - but whatever misgivings held, both men seemed to agree that they owed dues to the other, and so the coincidence was treated just so. They traveled in tandem, and if they made for an odd sight on the road, they were not often accosted for it, probably due in part to the second of the two.
The larger of the men was a Northerner, wearing garb common to the natives of the region - thick cloth that hung loosely as robes so that ice and cold alike were shed from it, with many overlapping layers beneath that allowed freedom of movement, trapped body heat and kept out snow. A hood and cowl obscured their face, leaving empty space only for their eyes. As with most other natives of that cold and dismal region, the figure's robes were adorned with sewn and dyed runic symbols that displayed the nature of the owner. Traders from the province had a certain array indicating their profession, as did smiths and guards and healers - and while Northerners were by no means omnipresent elsewhere, it paid to recognize such emblems, especially since on the open road recognizing one from the other could mean the difference between life and death. The patterning upon the man's robes marked him as a hunter - but strangely, runes for that of a warrior, a questor or perhaps merely a highwayman were also present. This was a man who was used to violence and struggle, and took no issue in letting others know it. And while his companion took some care to hide his weapons, he did not - he carried a tall and intimidating spear, made with finely lacquered black wood that was doubtlessly denser and harder, yet lighter than, steel. Ringlets of glinting metal capped the end of its shaft and ringed the grips, firmly securing them. The blade was finely forged, with a reach that rivaled that of most swords even before some smith had decided to attach it to the end of a stick.
The man, while accustomed to weather harsher and fiercer than merely the sun shining, and despite their swift movement, clearly had not spent much time in the region. The lower portions of his robes were soaked through. It was not the wet season, but a storm had passed through earlier and the area had always been prone to flash-flooding - something that had surprised the man greatly, as he had never before witnessed a body of water larger than a lake (which had probably been frozen over in any case). And so though they forged ahead with swiftness, he appeared ill at ease, keeping his weapon close at hand and firmly held.
And so it went, the few travelers that had passed them had gone out of their way to avoid interaction. A dark stranger of ineffable qualities and a tensed and armed warrior, both silent and as grim as the grave - few cared to know their business.