Hideaway Strath in the old days, there was enough

Lady luck must have favored him that night -- or perhaps she favored neither of them, depending upon one's outlook -- for the argentine hart also happened to be wandering the territory, restless and unable to sleep as had become the norm. Trees gave way to the sprawling valley at the heart of the plateau somewhere in the timeless merger between evening and twilight, pewter shadows clustering blue and grey in the crannies and crooks of the Strath as the sky lightened to a warm hue of peach that defied the frigid cold surrounding her. Ambling, aimless footsteps led her to follow alongside the banks of the river at random as it cut a dark path through the grasslands in the dimming light, absently admiring the earth as it cast aside a drapery of day and donned a wrap of nightfall.

It was only after she stopped somewhere along one of its bends, bending to take a quick drink, that she came across anyone else. She stilled halfway on her path to the water, straightening as she registered his umber form amongst the shadows some several yards away. Letting out a soft chuff of greeting, the halfling watched with piqued ears -- waiting to see if he desired company or wished to remain undisturbed.