---

Calariel slid the ring onto the her left hand, noting how the fit became snug over her glove. Magic, of course, allowing the ring to be worn by any size hand. It burned, even through the soft leather covering her finger, but the burn soon became a pleasant warmth, and she smiled. It was a wonderful gift, and would prove most useful to them in the days to come. If tonight was any indication, there were countless dangers ahead, seen and unseen.

She mounted up, performing one last check to make sure she had everything with her, and then rode out with the group, eyes ever vigilant.

When they arrived at their camp, it appeared most of the group was immediately heading to sleep, sleep that was much needed for them. Aelin's lovely song would no doubt soothe them into it, until her fellow elf decided to sleep as well. Calariel, however, was not feeling as drained as the others seemed. Her horse needed rest, though, so she placed her blanket over him and made sure he was comfortable enough.

"I will keep a watch," she declared softly, taking her bow in hand. Her eyes were the best at a distance, and her ears were the sharpest, making her the best choice to watch over the rest. Perhaps she would also catch something fresh for breakfast, when the time came.

Ofnir set on a cold rock, wrapped in his cloak like an old shepherd, staff resting on his lap. He'd no tent with him in which to sleep. His horse was sound asleep. His eyes then opened.

”We've no more than four hours before we depart,” he said. ”You better sleep, Calariel. Or you'll be wishing you had tomorrow. I'll keep watch tonight.” He looked at his staff and added: ”My way As another gift to you all. One you'll appreciate much more than jewelry, I believe.” He chuckled and went back to his closed-eyes sleeplessness.

---

Come sun-up, Ofnir was waiting for them together with a fish prepared above a new fire for everyone, prepared just in time for them when they wake up. He had taken the duties of a cock that morning and woke them with a poke of his staff, or several of them in some cases. ”Arise! Arise!” he said already poisoning himself with some forsaken flavor of weed he'd picked in the forest and somehow managed to dry already.

The trees around them were young, and not as great as their cousins farther north, but they'd be meeting them soon enough. Them, and others far more peculiar and alien, although just as naked. ”You have half an hour! We must hurry! Come on, up you go!”

He moved to the edge of the camp, just behind one of their tents and looked towards the hills in the distance. ”Hopefully we'll crest the first ridge and bivouac in those hills up there, or in a cave preferably. It has to be 30 miles to cover. It shouldn't be too hard on the horses.”

The path he'd intended to use was an old hunters' path, used for ages. It went through the woods, next to creeks, then down into a narrow meadow with a small pond, and again up among the shrubs, bushes and grass the lower parts of the hillside into the stony upper parts against the northern wind. Once they're up, they'll have to make their own paths, for none went further before without using the ancient highway of the kings of Angmar which they hoped to avoid at all costs.

---

---

In Thurin's own little world, the smell of fish brought something different than one would expect. For he was dreaming of the Battle of the Five armies, when he and his lads had charged the Elves and Men only to be halted by foul Goblins at the last moment! Bodies lay strewn across the battlefield, and even this far from the village he could smell the victims that still smouldered from Smaug the terrible's wrath. They smelled like-

"Fish," he muttered, opening his eyes groggily. Something was off, for not only was there a small weight on his side, but his otherside was being poked repeatedly by something that just couldn't let him sleep. He mumbled something in Dwarvish, then sat up, which caused Ellaryn's front half to slide down and rest on his stout leg. "Eh? Wha?"

Ellaryn awoke, she felt warm and surprisingly refreshed from her first good nights sleep in ages. The tent she had draped over herself had moved during the night, now it completely covered her and something or someone else, her eyes opened in shock. She stiffled a gasp as the object she slept on moved. She slid down and came fully awake, arms and legs started to flail about as she realised she was completely covered in the tent. She was about to panic when the aroma of freshly cooked fish reached her nose, her mouth watered immediately and her mind raced about where she was.

Slowly she poked her face out, the state she had gotten herself into faded the impression of dwarf made mail that was imprinted on the left side of her face. "Breakfast already?" it was said so fast, none could decide if she meant the the time or more likely if it was actually ready to eat.

Thurin's eyes squinted at the light of day, but other than that he seemed ready to go as soon as he had sat up. The sturdy Dwarf let out a groaned and lifted himself up, standing tall (for his kind) and steady. "Ah, seems we've got a bit of a meal going. There's little better in this world full of darkness and danger, little better to lift your spirits than a fine meal and a fine tune." Now all he needed was the tune, and he muttered as much to himself.

It was almost as if the smell of food reminded him of something, and he turned to see the Halfling with her hair a mess asking about the fish. He knelt down and grabbed the back of her shirt, lifting her up to her feet with one strong arm. "Up ye go, little one. Ye can't be traveling on an empty stomach, though I'm for thinking that there won't be a second breakfast." He gave her the smile of a comrade. He'd always thought Hobbits were fine people, though curious in nature.

Ellaryn, fell back into very old hobbit self, having been hoisted to her feet she gave out a very feminine squeal of surprise. She had never been handled like that ever (her infantcy in this situation didn't count) and her face shone red as the ripest tomatoe, while her stomach growled its deepest.

---

Calariel observed the amusement that was the dwarf and the hobbit from where she sat with her back against the base of a large tree, just far enough away to see most of the others clearly. She nibble away at the modest portion of Ofnir's prepared food she'd taken for herself; she figured the man and the dwarf would need more of it, and she did not need much. Years of experience on her own in the wild had taught her to get by with little. And besides, she had her own.

She wondered how quickly they would be able to form an effective group. At first she thought they might not work together at all, being such disparate races and coming from such different backgrounds. Calariel knew that she wasn't particularly skilled, socially, but already she felt welcome with these others, perhaps even accepted. Perhaps they were wanderers themselves, halfway to outcasts. There was potential for kinship, she knew.

Her milky eyes flitted to Aelin after her sharp ears picked up on Thurin's muttering. "Could you play something for us, then? You soothed us to sleep wonderfully, I imagine you can help us find our energy as well." She felt a bit embarrassed for asking, for no particular reason, and a bit of color crept onto her cheeks. She didn't really need the jolt, as Ofnir had given her more than enough time to sleep, more than she'd probably needed. But she liked the sounds of her fellow elf's songs.

---

---

For the second time that night, Vamyr bolted upright at the poke in his side- throwing the tent canvas off and gazing up at the wizard standing over him for a moment, before groaning and dropping back down. His horse took the side of the wizard however, and shoved Vamyr off. It stood and shook the canvas from it's back. "Traitor." The guardsman sighed and stood, stretching and cracking his back. After shaking out the canvas and rerolling it to tie to his saddle, he bent over and examined the snow around the camp for the whitest patch. He used what cooking gear he had to heat up water for drinking. That done, he pulled three portions from the fire and carried them over to the dwarf and halfling. He bent over and examined the little woman's inflamed face, muttering, "Sick already? I thought halflings were sturdier than that."

"Ye mistake resiliance for constitution. She'll be fine, mark me words." Thurin said, strolling over and plopping himself down next to the fire to grab a bite of fish. He saw the milky eyed Elf sitting over to the side, and gave her a grunt in greeting before he bit into the cooked meat. "Didn't know Wizards went fishing" he said aloud. It was good meat.

If it was even posible, Ellaryn's face went a deeper shade of red as Vamyr stood over her. His examination of her face made her shift from from one foot to the other in nervousness. He appeared so stoic, she couldn't tell if he was sincere, concerned or sarcastic. She shot Thurin an evil glance after his antics, but already he had moved to join Calariel.

"I...er....that is, my thanks....." Ellaryn stuttered and flustered her words, but her hobbit nature quickly kicked in. Both her hands reached out and accepted the cooked fish that was bought before her. It did indeed smelled very good. Ellaryn's stomach growled in agreement.

She tried her best to throw attention away from herself, glancing at Calariel she spoke;

"Perhaps a song for breakfast would be welcome." Hopefully everyone would pay the bard more notice.

"Probably right." Vamyr straightened and shrugged noncomittaly before a thought occured and he turned sharply to look her over. "Do you carry weapons?." As he spoke, Vamyr scanned the other members of their party. He had no issues with a song, but they needed to leave quickly if they were to travel such a distance. "Rather, I guess I should be asking- are you good with them?"

Just as Vamyr turned back to Ellaryn to ask if she had weapons, Ellaryn had polished off the fish and was happily licking her fingers clean. She barely managed to stiffle a belch as she went went to her collapsed tent and searched for her two short swords, she gave Vamyr a quick look at them before they were strapped to her belt. She explained, "I'm okay with them, but not as strong as you big folk." Then she frowned before admitting"I haven't even been in a fight with them, and last night was..." She sighed and threw herself into packing her gear up, she didn't want to think on Nora's face with the other undead creatures they had fought.

Suddenly Aelin appeared from the nearby woods, carrying a large bag of some sort.

"Did one of you mention the word bard? Because here I am, and I bring you food.. Well, I think these are edible. We probably should boil them first though."

He placed his bag to the ground, so everyone could see the contents. It was filled with massive gray mushrooms, as well as some kind of leaves. It was a miracle that anything like that would grow this far north, but if someone could find life in the middle of all the snow, it was this elf. He sat down next to Ellaryn, looking well rested.

Ellaryn, gladly took the mushrooms from Aelin, they immediately bought back memories of farmer Maggot's farm. It seemed every up and coming hobbit that could, did their very best to raid his crops. She had only dreamed of getting her hands on his mushrooms and now here they were growing out in the wild. The leaves she couldn't place though.

"Better let Ofnir take a look at them, unless someone else is good with plant knowledge?" She slightly raised her voice as she asked the question while she packed the mushrooms away safely. She then returned to continuing with packing her tent. "There's breakfast awaiting you, Ofnir has done well with it." She gave a small involuntary belch at that.

"I guess there's enough time for music, let me see.."

Once again, a song emerging from Aelin's instrument filled the area. However, this time it was cheerful and fast paced, and included lyrics only those who spoke Sindarin would understand. The elf sung of heroes, dragons, riches and the old times.

Strong temptation lay before the wizard. ”We do fish, Thurin...” said Ofnir. ”But with some of those mushrooms your friend has brought, one could do many, many other things. You wouldn't need music, trust me.” He observed the contents of the bag, nervously chewing on his pipe and licking his lips in between each puff. ”Arh, toss them away! Leave those white ones, save them for later. The rest I can't let you eat.”

Annoyed, he left them to their meal, trying to enjoy the music. He'd missed the gentle music of the elves, he realised. He didn't know it until he returned. The eastern tunes he was exposed to became too monotonous for him, and only made him uneasy in the recent years of his travels. Now he was blessed by elvish minstrelsy once more, and it seemed to help with his cravings. And there were no snakes rising to the pipe sounds around his legs either.

”And that was a good question, Vamyr. About weaponry.” He raised his hand above his eyes to shield them from the sun and looked towards the shapes of the mountains in the distance, barely visible through the stark trees. The spot that stole his attention the most was a green oasis like meadow down there between them and the roots of the hills, a spot famous for its so-called immortal flora, which remained as green in the winter as it was in summer. The war pond there provided fish for their breakfast, and surely would do the same later that day, for some other meal. ”I've heard a story, ere you came to join me, in the tavern. There's a mighty beast lurking this region: a gigantic albino she-bear, whiter than the first snow, twice as large as the largest bear you've ever seen, or so they say. Almost humanly vindictive, vicious, an eerie ghost presence of the forest to scare the children with. Once a beautiful, innocent spirit of the woods turned into an animal by a man who'd tricked her and stole her gems of potency, according to the folk tales. Now she's bloodthirsty and seeks vengeance for her stolen bliss.”

He returned and sat down with them, spoke to them through the smoke and odor of fish: ”Careful, is what I am saying. There's a grain of truth in legends.” He looked at Calariel and Aelin, making sure they heard him. ”Of course, we can always leave the little one as a sacrifice!” he said and looked at the hobbit-friend, smiling. He chuckled, stirred the dying coals of the fire with his foot and rose, rubbing his dirtied hands on his robes. ”Well, I hope you won't take long. We've got to move quickly. Eat up now, and get ready to move.”

---

"Ah, yes. Breakfast. Food."

It seemed like Aelin had been lost in his thoughts ever since his last song had begun, and only the wizard's words were enough to pull him back to the moment. He quickly ate his portion of the food and stood up, ready to move on with the adventure.

Thurin chewed the last bits of his second fish, glancing at the little Halfling lass as she gulped down her fish almost too swiftly to comprehend. He let out a chuckle, and a friendly smile. He had grown quite fond of the little folk. The mushrooms that were brought did not particularly interest him. Mushrooms weren't meant for a Dwarf unless they had little else to eat. He remembered they were popular among Hobbits and Bree Men. Elves too, apparently.

"Great bear you, say?" he asked aloud, his great arms now resting on his short but strong legs. He wiped his mouth with his black beard. He would say no more, but instead tried to decipher if fighting such a beast was anything close to fighting a Cave Troll. Dwarves had certain techniques for dealing with such creatures. Would they work on this beast as well? He supposed he could use a new bear pelt as well...

Ellaryn finished packing her gear and double checked her supplies as Ofnir concluded his tale of the Great Bear. So Ofnir already knew about some of the more unsavourary mushrooms. She carefully opened up one of her, three bottles. The contents were not something she was particularily fond off, but if the bear was as real as Ofnir seemed to think, something more potent was called for.

"Of course, we can always leave the little one as a sacrifice!”

She stood stock still and slowly turned to the wizard. She looked down and pulled another notch on her belt, "There's nothing left of me, if a bear needs feeding that badly, it could try Dwarf. Really though they are far to tough to swallow" She gave Thurin a light poke, "and Elves, it would be too much effort for a Great Bear to rush about and catch one."

Ellaryn gave a light curtsey to both Aelin and Calariel. She turned to Vamyr "No point with the bigfolk, they are just too tough a nut to crack." She turned to Ofnir, it was a supreme effort on her part to keep a straight face and she did have a little worry after seeing first hand what he was capable off. "What I think this bear needs is a proper meal, I advise a well mature portion of meat, aged to perfection, something tender and that requires a staff to get around."

For her own part it started as a jest, but as she went on, it sounded far too spiteful to her ears.

"Of course the best things come in small packages, so that bear will probably go for me anyway."

"Maybe that's what I meant, little one: to leave you as the bear's dessert. They are known for their sweet tooth after all." He smiled and gently poked her head with the staff 'he required to walk'.

He mounted and rested his staff horizontally on the saddle in front of him. "Well, all's done here. Let us move!" With that he went on ever slowly, knowing they'd catch up quickly.

---

The narrow earthen trail went on for about two miles before it disappeared in the untouched snow. In the distance, through the stark towering trees, a creek could be seen silently passing through towards the west. The cool water was diaphanous, and every tiny pebble could be seen at the bottom, where branches were caught in that shingle. In spring, little spots of sunlight would dance upon the surface, and tiny fish would swim with the flow.

The path winded and went with the creek between it and the forest, Ofnir knew, but could no longer be seen under the white wintery blanket. He halted his horse, looked back to check the others were in line. "The path follows the water for a good while, if my memory serves me well. Stay one behind the other, lest you overestimate the width of the path and fall into the creek. The forest floor is covered in rock and is hollowed in many places, so don't ride through the trees. Come on."

The further they went, the thicker the forest to their left grew, and thicker the naked dark brown trees became. Eventually, some of them seemed older than the land itself, and were so tall their tops could not be discerned from the angle they observed them. The creek also widened a few feet, and went slower as the ground was a tad flatter there. On the other side, the forest was less dense at its edges, and burial mounds rose like little dunes, their tops dark where the snow had melted, and some of them still holding the remains of ancient and primitive portals that led into them, made of three stones placed so as to resemble small narrow doors.

"Here lie buried still some of the men of unknown tribes and tongues who once had a settlement in these parts. This is all left of them: emptied tombs hollowed by time, and some stone plates to suggest human involvement. They used to bury their dead in these mounds with all their belongings, so that they would pick them up once they're risen from the dead. They thought death was but sleeping, and that one day all who have died would come again and live forever in these forests ripe with fruit and endless in size and bliss to support all of the generations."

He rode on for a while, and then stopped. Dismounting hastily and awkwardly, he sped forward and knelt, looking at the ground.

"Come here!" he hissed. "I am no ranger, but those are tracks. Deep tracks. Someone clad in something heavy must have left them. Keep watch, follow the treeline, we are behind them whoever they be. There may be traps. Calariel, I hope we can count on your elf eyes."

---

As the group rode through the land, Aelin begun to question his involvment with this whole mission. At first, going with the wizard had seemed like an interesting way to learn about magic and the northern parts of Middle-Earth.. But in the end, he hadn't really been given a choice. Aelin remembered the distorted and sickly figures of the innkeeper and his daughter, the burning of the village and the screams of the people. He finally had time to think of it all, but now he wished he wouldn't.

I really wish I was back in Mirkwood now...

Suddenly, he awoke from these thoughts and found himself to be staring at his ring. He was bound to these people now, what would they do if he turned back? What would Ofnir think?

No.

He pushed these thoughts away and pulled a small wine bottle from his bag. It was from the tavern, and he had never had the time to examine it before. The label was small and handwritten, and he couldn't make out much of it. And honestly, it didn't matter.

I think I have deserved this.

The elf raised the bottle to his mouth and drank it empty in one go. Quietly, he continued riding on with the group until Ofnir noticed something.

Lyanna lay asleep in a small rock outcropping, her plate armor set to the side of her bedroll; along with the bastard sword she carried. Her body shot awake as she heard faint voices, and the loud breath of horses; instinctively grasping her sword she crawled from under the rocks. Wrapped in a grey fur cloak, which she traded some villagers a sturdy steel shield for; coming over to rest onto of a small knoll dotted with thin bushes. Looking down the trail at the company of travelers noting that they were quite well armed, narrowing her eyes she elected to stay hidden; her breath visible in the cold. She quietly crept backwards, slipping the mail haubrek she carried over her head and shoulders; the cold steel comforting over the fur. Grasping the sword in her left hand she pulled her plate helm over her head, the steel fitting well thanks to decent padding; her body would then quickly emerge from the hiding place.

The steel links shifting audibly as her boots left imprints in the trail, standing only fifteen feet from the party she called to them; muffled somewhat beneath the helm. The clean steel of her sword glinting in the sunlight, well maintained and sharpened it's point facing the ground in her left gloved hand; hoping they weren't trouble.

"Greetings, friends what brings you so far out?"

Ellaryn was a little nervous, she found herself somewhat within the middle of the single filed party as they trudged their way up through the woods. Her thoughts of the possible White Bear of the Forest slowly got left behind as the trail followed the course of the stream beside them. It was peaceful, the companionship of their little group made her feel welcome and for maybe the first time in years Ellaryn felt relaxed and at rest. Ofnir's talk of a nearby ancient burial ground bought back memories of the Barrow mounds south of Bree. Could they have similar tales about them.

It didnot even enter her head of the evil that had raised the innkeeper, his daughter and the stranger that night, but then maybe her suspicious mind was growing less paranoid this past day.

Ofnir halted the party and her instincts made her seem small on the back of Sany the pony. As he examined the ground about him, Ellaryn took of and strapped her pack to the pony's saddle, not sure where this armoured form might be hiding, she choose to stay quietly in the saddle. The pack strapped infront of herself gave some restriction of view, but only if she wasn't being observed at present.

When the warrior (and what else could she be, wearing that armour) appeared and hailed them all, she stole a glance at Calariel before looking back to her. "I was impressed with the Royal Princess, but this is from legend." she muttered to herself before looking towards Thurin, she caught herself. It was porbably not the best time to ask him why he didn't wear such armour. Still his was more comfortable to sleep against.

---

The elf looked upon Lyanna with a puzzled face. Her armor seemed to be Gondorian, but it had clearly been modified and painted, possibly in an attempt to hide it's origin.

That really looks like something a goblin would wear..

But she clearly wasn't a goblin. She could have killed one and stolen it's clothes, but that seemed unlikely. She couldn't really be a soldier either, since Gondor's military consisted of men only. And honestly, this was the last place one would expect to find a Gondorian soldier.

I do not like this at all.

Aelin realized he was reaching for his knives, but decided not to unsheathe them. Instead, he moved closer to the stranger.

"Do you mind if I ask you the same question?"

He wasn't sure what to say next or how to answer her question, so turned to look at the others.

---

Vamyr was silent as they traveled. He had grown up secluded in the outer regions of Gondor- socializing wasn't his strong point. That put aside, there was a certain beauty in the cold and snow. They were unfamiliar compared to the greens and lush forest he had known, but that only added to the etheral feel of the area. The tales Ofnire had to tell were intimidating, but he let himself relax in the saddle. Until something happened, there was no point in stressing further. In his experience things were best taken care of when they arrived; preparing for the worst, hoping for the best. His father had always said that men were masters of their own fates.

None of that helped in the least when Ofnire halted them and went to examine the tracks. Vamyr remained astride his horse, sparing only a glance for the tracks. The recent snowfall meant that they were fresh. He glanced at Thurin with a raised eyebrow and then turned to scan the woods around them. It would have been easy for an ambush to come from their left, but the mounds and creek concerned him- archers would have them pinned against the forest if they shot from the other direction. The clink of metal drew his eyes to the front as a warrior approached, keeping a respectful distance. The armor was familiar, but had been darkened. He didn't bother to listen to what she had to say, other than to note it was the voice of a woman before reigning his horse around and moving towards the back of their group.

"Thurin." It was the obvious setup for an ambush. A heavily armored warrior to distract a party from the front whilst others came from behind- Vamyr wouldn't trust their lives with the chance of being wrong. Thurin was the most equiped to handle an armored threat if it came to blows, he would keep an eye on their backs while the others spoke. "I have a difficult time trusting anyone who hides their face." He spoke offhandedly while his back was towards the newcomer, but was sure the others would catch what he meant.

Unlike his comrades, Thurin walked. He was more sure footed on the ground, and only truly had his sturdy horse for hauling extra goods or, if need be, quick getaways. The Dwarf trudged through the snow, no complaint on his lips. He kept his silence for the most part, other than a few grumbles he gave as he tried to finish the last two verses of a small song he was making. His horse snorted, the beast's mane covered in snowflakes just as Thurin's black beard and hair was.

They stopped for tracks, and the Dwarf nodded sagely at the find. It wasn't the bear just yet, but he kept his Axe close to his side nonetheless as they began to march forward once more. A voice rose up, and Vamyr called the Dwarfs name. "Right." the Dwarf said, taking his Axe out. It wasn't a threatening or aggressive gesture, but it was clear the Dwarf agreed with the man's curt assessment of the situation, and he stood tall (for a Dwarf) and vigil.

---

Having nodded to Vamyr in agreement with his idea to secure the rear and taking a look around himself to make sure everyone was holding together and that no one lurked on either side of the creek -- the precaution he was sure Calariel had been on long before his elderly reflexes allowed him -- Ofnir pointed his staff towards the stranger, calming his horse with the other hand and then drawing the sword. He spoke in a cold voice that seemed to come from that wintery country they found themselves in: ”You've heard him!” he meant Vamyr. ”Take off your helmet, if you wish to stay alive, and show yourself!”

It was no ghoul nor spawn of Mordor, he knew, seeing his sword which gave no glow as to indicate a servant of the Eye. But sometimes Children of Ilúvatar carry more darkness than those whom the Enemy had wrought into being, and caution was necessary, especially in such a distant, ruthless land. A cold northern breeze brought the smell of deathless hills. ”Quickly! Off with the helmet!”

Lyanna waited until all the party had said their peace, not truly having time to respond; her eyes instead focused on their bodies as best they could keep up with them all. Lifting her sword upwards so the point turned towards herself, pushing it smoothly back into its black leather bound sheath; grasping the sides of her helmet and lifting it off her head tucking it beneath her right arm. The left hand resting open palmed on the pommel of her sword, walking closer to the group with long strides. Her eyes a light brown flecked with hazel, dulled though it seemed with a fairly long appearing gaze; a long horizontal scar crossing her left cheek extending to her missing ear which would only be spotted under ruffled unkempt black hair by those with keen sight. "If I meant to harm you I'd never have come out, what brings you to this damnable region?"

---

Aelin was fairly annoyed now. First the stranger had ignored him, and now she was asking her original question again. Thurin and Vamyr seemed to be cautious as well, and after all they were probably the group's most experienced fighters. The elf slowly dismounted his horse, feeling the snowy ground under his bare feet.

Ah, it is colder than I thought..

Carefully, step after step he walked to Lyanna and unsheathed one of his knives, pointing it's blade towards her now visible face. For a peaceful and nature loving musician, Aelin really appeared quite intimidating.

"Back off. What my company seeks is none of your business, and we do not want any trouble."

@Vas Khaleen

Now or never.

Ellaryn made her silent thought behind the pack that was now tied to the saddle, thurin had strode to the front of the group and Vamyr went back as a rear guard. Aelin boldly appoarched the metal-clad warrior. It was a surprise to herself. As quietly as possible as Aelin made his "greeting" she dismounted, keeping Sandy calm as she watched this stranger.

She was patient enough, there was nothing she could do toe to toe with and armour foe, but if she get to side or the rear.

She watched from between her pnies legs, already she had a rough route to a few trees to get to at the very least one side of te woman. It just needed the correct timing to move and she wasn't sure if that was possible. So she watched and waited.