For awhile, Vialesa could see the faint glow of a fire off her path, clearly a temporary place of rest for one or several strangers. Up and down the short hills, Vialesa cared little to approach; whoever they were and whatever they were doing was of little concern and importance. If she stopped to say hello to every band of travelers she caught wind of during her own solitary journey, it'd be a slow progression indeed. She caught sight of the camp approaching from a long ways away, and purposefully angled her trek such that it wouldn't pass through them. Eventually it was positioned to her right, and she was well on her way to passing it by.
The glow of the fire burst to life in one moment, and Vialesa waved it off as being a simple act of feeding the flames a tad too much. It wasn't a particularly cold night by any means, but perhaps the campers desired a greater flame for whatever reason. However, she stopped when the sounds of distraught horses caught her ears. One in particular continued its cries louder than the others, and it seemed less like a peaceful gathering in the night and more like an act of violence waiting to happen.
Vialesa looked over at the camp from atop a hill, deducing as best she could what was transpiring. Little was visible beyond the vague figures of several individuals seated around the campfire. None of them appeared restful upon the ground, and Vialesa concluded something was amiss with certainty. Someone was in trouble, and she had the possibility of granting aid, whatever it was that spooked the horses. Bandits, wolves... Whatever it may be, she couldn't walk past the idea that common folk were about to be assaulted in the dark.
Hand planted upon the hilt of her warped weapon, Vialesa approached the campsite with a brisk pace.