The assassin's feet landed silently amidst the uneven assemblage of boxes and supplies that adorned the top of the wagon.  The woman guiding the wagon, despite her own excellent hearing, was far too engrossed in the trail ahead and ensuring the horse didn't run off the path to pay any attention to him.  She was leaning forwards, ebony tipped toes curled around the foot board as she strained to see ahead.  She couldn't see him creeping up behind her.

Then he spoke, softy in her ear.  Her head spun, golden tresses splaying outwards.  She squealed in fright, one hand immediately shooting out towards the loaded crossbow leaning up against the bench for just such an emergency.  It was reflex.  It wasn't particularly a smart move and she regretted it as her finger tips brushed the smooth wood of the crossbow's haft.