Luneshale Pass looks like there's no more room in hell for me

He is unlike anything she’s seen before and so she stands wary, suspending her search for herbs in lieu of pursuing his ascent with her eyes and bracing a confident countenance that wishes instead to flee.

Here they are not so far off that she could call for the mazoi if needed, and in this recognition she will greet him firmly with a dip of her nose as the man nears.

“Good day,” she offers softly. Unbidden her eyes slide to the marrings along his shoulder before finding their mark again over his own.