Their travel was mostly quiet. It was better that way and gave her time to rest and reflect. Hours passed, however, until the sun began to rise. It was only then that she realized how tired she was. And how hungry.
"I need to rest. Just for a few moments," she said, leaning heavily into a tree before guiding herself down to sit upon a fallen log. The morning air was thick with a white, chilly fog. Visibility was difficult at best, and the world smelled of fresh dew.
She took the moment to brush her fingers through her hair, making a face each time her hands caught in knots, but she kept at it until her hair was visibly tamer than it had been all morning. But it was still something out of control. It was her hair she was known for, and she used this moment to begin to pull the pieces back, braiding it as best she could before letting the thick braid fall down along her back. She already felt better for it, it being freeing to feel the morning's air against her bare neck and throat.
Sighing, she tossed her heavy bangs from her face and turne dto Chagall.
"All of this walking is making me hungry." She gave him a small smile. "I wonder how much longer before we find a town and an inn with some decent food."