[Rochelle]

The grey mare trodded into town, stopping at the stable opposite the inn. Her head drooped from exhaustion, mimicking the posture of the cloaked figure on her back. A gentle whicker caused the form to awaken, casting brown eyes around before offering the mare a pat of thanks. Dismounting, the figure threw back the hood of her cloak, revealing a cascade of red-blonde locks. Her fairness gave little doubt that she was from anywhere but the Mark, the faraway lands of Rohan.

She tied her mare to the post before stepping into the dimness of the inn. As her eyes adjusted, she quickly moved to a vacant table, slumping into the chair. Her fingers danced around the leather bag tied to her waist, a collection of coins, stones and artifacts she'd found along the way. Looking around, she noticed many happy faces and fervent conversations...