Mawiyah sat at the end of the long caravan line, her stout black mare tied to a tree beside her makeshift shelter which she built from the plentiful branches and trees around the area; child's play compared to building a shelter in the Harad desert. Though the rain here was far heavier and frequent, she had a small fire beneath the shelter providing her with warmth along with a way to cook the rabbit she had hunted earlier in the day; using her curved hunting knife to roast the fairly heavy meat over the fire. Her scimitar sheathed and laid against the tree her shelter propped against, along with her quiver of bamboo arrows and her bamboo composite bow currently unstrung to keep tension out of the arms; her black eyes scanning the darkness every so often knowing her presence was tolerated but not appreciated. A silk scarf was wrapped tightly around her head and neck, leaving her hair hidden but not her tattooed face, the ruby ring on her right index finger filling her body with a sense of dull warmth against the dropping temperature. 

Her eyes dropped from the darkness down to the modest ruby ring rolling it around her finger slowly with the others, pulling the roasted rabbit from the edge of the flames ripping a chunk from the middle with her teeth nodding pleased with the result though she felt it needed more flavoring. Mawiyah stood up and stepped out from her hovel, grabbing the long scimitar from its resting place pulling the black leather belt around her waist buckling it tightly to hold the blade in place; walking towards the front of the caravan where the merchants would be. Wrapping the silk scarf closer to her head covering more of her face and swarthy oily skin, hoping the rain and dark would lessen the odds of any trouble being started, as any upset could end in her death something she had no intention on reaching. Sheathing her knife as well, holding the rabbit in her left hand as she approached a man with crates on a wagon which she recognized as spice crates, from her time spent in the port city of her birth; she stepped close to the man and nodded respectfully before speaking. Her accent thick and far different from any that would be found amongst the other nationalities of man, her common tongue just as fluent as Harad and black speech.

"Hello my friend, I need pepper and parsley."

The man glared at Mawiyah something she anticipated even before she ventured into the dark rain, but his glare softened as she produced several gold coins in her outstretched palm worth a bit more than the spices actual value; while his disdain for her may have been great gold conquered all. So the man retrieved the spices from a crate and set them in small rough sewn sacks handing them over in exchange for the gold, Mawiyah smiling as she nodded in thanks turning to walk back to her shelter the fire still burning gently beneath it, her lamellar brass colored steel armor catching glints of light from the others fires; leaving her right palm laid gently on the pommel of her scimitar.