Snow. It really was rather beautiful. The blond elven woman had never really seen it before. It was quite remarkable. It reminded her of the sands in the deserts where she had grown up, only sand didn't cling softly to branches. It was hard and abrasive. She watched a flake tumble down through the air and settle upon her big toenail, where her bare foot was propped up against the vardo wagon's railing. If it hadn't been for her magical ring, protecting her from the winter chill, she probably wouldn't have been quite so impressed by the crystalline flakes falling from the sky overhead, especially not given her current attire. Assallya Kressair was dressed in the attire she had worn in the harem she'd grown up in. She'd grown accustomed to the light silks they wore when she'd bothered wearing anything at all- and shoes, she'd never grown accustomed to wearing those. The ebony silks billowed and flapped around her arms and legs, gently, as the wind that must have been violent elsewhere was cut down to a breeze by the coniferous canopy. She'd been assured the ring would hold out, protect her from anything the most well dressed woodsman wore but extreme cold that would drive an experienced winter hunter to seek shelter would be her downfall. Only, Assallya had never been to the north. What constituted a need to find shelter?

Admiring the view, she let her trusty nag of a horse follow the path, still clearly visible beneath the thin sheet of snow born of a nascent winter. She would be safe here, up north, nobody here would know about the bounty on her head, not in this land so far away from home and by the time she returned most would have forgotten her misdeeds or assume her dead. At least, that was the plan. In the past, every time her would be captors and assassins would have given up she found herself sighted and the hunt begun anew. This time she had gone far enough to elude them all and far enough that by the time she returned all would have forgotten.

An oddly shaped lump came into view at the side of the road ahead. Assallya wasn't sure what to make of it at first. Then, after her trusty horse took several more strides she recognized it as a humanoid being. She couldn't make out the face but the feathered shaft sticking out of the huddled form seemed to indicate a slain traveller. Pursing her lips, Assallya considered and then gently pulled up her reins. It wasn't that she was concerned for the poor creature but the creature could possess something of value she could pawn in the next town. Grasping the side of her wagon, she shimmied down the brass pole alongside the crimson wagon and alighted upon the ground. Then, moving carefully she padded forward quietly towards the fallen figure, her barefeet barely making a whisper upon the soft newly fallen snow.