The old nag plodded along, her hooves clopping along the first trail.  The vardo wagon, with its large diameter wheels and springs enabling it to carry itself over gnarled roots and scree.  It could go places regular wagons could not.

Atop the wagon sat an elven woman, her tresses long and golden.  Ensconced in loose black silks she cast her gaze through the deep shadows of the surrounding forest.  She was laid back, reclining upon her cushions, bare toes wrapped around the edge of the foot rest.  She held the reins loosely in her hands as the horse found her own way through the verdant forest.

She had been traveling for some time, too long, and she was getting nearly so weary as her horse.  She had no idea where she was exactly, didn't care really, so long as she was headed north and west.  What she really wanted was an inn.  Her vardo was comfortable enough but what she really wanted was to spend some coin on a hot bath.