The anxiety was building, the sense that something she was doing was wrong resonating in her chest with all the discomfort she expected it would have. Her ears fell faintly against the salt-and-pepper locks that fell over her shoulders, green eyes staring absently into the territory they had come to while she waited further orders -- her moral compass was incapable of pushing past her sense of masculine superiority, and as Ezekiel spoke and motioned for her to follow, she did without hesitation. Small footsteps carried her further, behind him, into the strange land.
She was far from a skilled scout, or a skilled thief, and her kaftan often rustled foliage or dragged twigs until she decided it was becoming a hinderance. Quickly as she could, she shed the outer garment, falling behind the Aquila as she detangled herself and tossed it away, but the space was regained as quickly as it was lost. Her eyes focused on Ezekiel, watching him with the faintest curiosity before managing to swallow her nerves. "Why do we come here?" The whisper-quiet words, barely a breeze of voice, broke a tenent of her lifestyle.
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