This was the worst sort of situation to be in.

What Priestley was doing right now would, in approximately 888 out of 889 scenarios, be completely ludicrous. Unthinkable. Wandering off into the snowy, cloudy wilderness, in the vague direction of a settlement, said information having been gleamed from nothing more than hearsay from the one flesh-and-blood creature who she'd met eye to eye, and was now dead. No doubt there'd be hostile creatures out here that would jump her, just like those Bears had done.

Yet, for every 888, there is 1. 1 extremely unlikely and quite frankly absurd scenario that would necessitate this course of action. Her now deceased guide, the man known as Talan Priestley, had gone to great lengths to explain she should never stray too far from his cabin. Not because of the creatures, but because of the people. Unlike the creatures, he said, the people were even more dangerous and several degrees of magnitude more persistent, vindictive... greedy. Creatures had the sense to know when to quit, he had told her, but not people. People would chase their prey to the ends of the world. The only thing that would stop them is the complete shut down of all their vital body function.

Of course, Priestley had no knowledge left over of what the people who created her must have been like, so she had no choice but to take him at his word. But when these people first showed up at Talan's cabin and killed him, it would appear as though the evidence was in his favour. Even after it turned out he was motivated by a highly illogical desire to mould her into some kind of walking memorial to his wife, she had no more 'sensible' figure with which to contrast against his views. For all she had gathered, Talan's mode of thinking may even be the norm in this land. It might even turn out to be relatively tame compared to the inhabitants of these settlements.

Thus, she had no choice but to leave and seek out protection. The assailants who had come for her had escaped, and no doubt they would return in numbers, and their magic-using leader would most likely have learned from the experience and would not grant her any gifts of magic.

All of this was only ten stretches ago. Ten stretches, she had been wandering through a seemingly endless snowy plain, the path to the 'settlement', whatever it was called, obscured by the contents of a blizzard from the night before. While the thick snow had done much to impede her movement, she had concluded after much internal debate that the small remainder of the magic energy she had absorbed from her attacker was better utilised for something less trivial than simply traversing perfectly walkable ground.

Eventually, the blizzard began to subside somewhat, and the snow became thin enough for her to hear her metallic boots clank against the stone surface. This was a double-edged sword, she deduced. On the one hand, this probably meant she was reaching a much better-maintained section of path, implying some kind of civilised infrastructure. On the other hand, the noise would probably alert her position to any potential creatures... or associates of the 'Pyresia' attackers, lying in wait. Thus, she stopped to survey the area.

It was when she stopped clanking her boots against the ground that she heard something. Voices. Three of them. Indistinct voices, it seemed at first, but one of them was higher-pitched than the others; presumably female. Another voice had a considerably flat register compared to the other, which fluctuated greatly, in a tone consistent with what she believed was called a 'whiny' demeanour.

Advancing once again, but slowly and making sure to mask her approach by treading on snow where possible, she soon managed to sight some faint outlines beyond the fog, just down the path. There were definitely people down there.

Once again, she stopped dead in her tracks to consider the best course of action.

She already knew that she would never be able to find the protection she sought without eventually revealing her presence to someone. This was an inevitability. To try and exist in complete secrecy would only ensure her doom. Yet, she already knew from Talan that most people in this new world had no idea what she was. To them, she was a creature of unnverving; a walking chunk of inanimate material carved into the shape of a person, almost as if to mock them.

She eventually decided that these people up ahead were not affiliated with the kidnappers; or if they were, they were not doing a good job, judging from the way they were just standing out in the open, loudly arguing with each other. But that didn't necessarily mean they meant her no harm. They could be simple thieves, and she had been lead to believe that thieves would value her consistent materials to a great degree.

Noticing that she was still obscured by the fog, as were they, she eventually decided to call out to them. From the tone of their response, she deduced, she would be able to further deduce the true objective of their questionable presence out here.

[color=fff79a][b]"Calling. Calling. Please respond. This one is lost. The relatively clear state of this path would suggest a settlement of some description is within a reasonable distance. Is this assumption correct? If there is no response within thirty seconds, this one will assume this is private property and go to a suitable effort to locate and utilise an alternative route."[/b][/color]

Her ability to 'yell' in the same way that the flesh-and-bloods could was greatly hindered by her consistent materials, she believed, but she could nonetheless raise her voice enough for it to echo into the ears of these individuals up ahead. Ironically, it seemed as though her time with Talan had numbed her sense of what was right to reveal to a stranger. She made a note of this.