a hollow wooden door

To the north of his position there was a stand of red-tinged trees, but Anselm did not head that way; or if he did, he was unaware. His ambling steps brought him alongside the hills leading south in to the adjacent mountains, and, as he came to realize a moment later, in to the company of a stranger. Her greeting was not startling, for Anselm spotted her as he marched, but the friendliness did. He paused, lifting his head and snout so as to sniff at the wind - curious of her, but also wary, due to previous dealings with strangers. She held no mark of the plateau pack or any other. Another rogue, then. "Hello." He finally slurred.