The road was a muddy track wide enough four horses to walk abreast. Rain water pooled in potholes and streamed from Julia's mahogany fur cloak. The sky was dark with storm clouds. Lightning flashed, illuminating the mercenary and her stallion for a heartbeat before thunder rumbled through the sky like the growl of a distant god.
Her horse snorted and shook his head, unnerved by the endless rain and bark of thunder. She comforted him with a touch of a maile gauntleted hand. In her decade of mercenary work she had endured thunderstorms, snowstorms, sandstorms and seastorms. Given the choice she would take the thunderstorm; the others were considerable more lethal. That particular silver lining did nothing to improve her comfort; the veteran mercenary was completely drenched.
A second flash of lightning lit the road and Julia thought she saw a figure up ahead. Lifting an arm she yelled over the thunderstorm. "Hail! Well met traveler." Though her other arm dropped to the hilt of her sword; one never knew, and she had a job to do besides.