As Nakär would pull herself up, she would clean her armor from a bit of dust that had fallen upon her shoulders while carving the massive green wyvern and simply began to walk away, gesturing to the other to follow her as she began to walk deep into the darkest parts of the forest.
It was clear that she was used to hunt in those areas, as her steps would easily lead her through some of the most dangerous zones of the Forest, even close to a nest inhabited by two massive wyverns, one green and one red, that were strangely sleeping soundly one next to the other.
Once they arrived, Nakär showed the surroundings of the encampment, which was rather small, with one big tent and a small stone oven surrounded by stone tables.
“There it is…my favorite resting place…”
Presumably, there was a point to all this well-adorned armor. For Tracy, more used to simple chain mail and leather, she didn’t quite get how an admittedly flattering bralette and fur-stuffed boots served the purposes of a hunter. Camouflage, maybe? But she didn’t even wear a mantle (as the knight did, to keep her steady, but loud footfalls from waking the beasts), just that silly horn.
The camp was grim. That was what she got for hoping. As with most places ‘round the New World, they were living rough. With the stink of cooking-fire obscured by even more pungent local herbs, it was safe, but at what cost? Few would accuse hammocks of being the epitome of comfort, but even they surpassed sleeping on the ground in the middle of a forest. Thankfully, she could avoid letting it show too much, opting to slough off her cloak on a table and turning her back.
“Cozy,” she decided on, eventually, settling against the table. “Maybe I should reintroduce myself. Pretend that I haven’t gone ahead and stuck my head in someone else’s business. Tracy Singh. Charmed.”
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