How long had she wandered?
The fog never ceased, and the night was never ending. Carefully placing her walking stick before of her every step, she meandered the endless, rolling hills and barrow mounds. Only the occasional stone peer broke the scenery of fog, grass, and rolling mounds. She was hastily losing track of the time as she walked on and on.
Struggling to see, she traversed the hills and slopes with wariness. As she found herself upon a particularly steep hill, she fell to her hands and knees climbing. Tightening the leather strap of her staff over her chest, throwing the staff on her back, she climbed with steady, slow breaths. The walking stick rattled on her back, her sheathed sword slapped against her waistline. Cold dirt seeped into her gauntlets like water breaking into a dam. Dirt clogged the metal and slipped inside her burlap gloves. When she finally reached the top, she was shocked to find herself tumbling down the other side. Her staff flung off her back as she she rolled down the steep hill. Something wet splashed around her and she found herself sprawled about some tall reeds, near a swamp. She turned her head, gazing into the faint pools, out towards the nearby barrows. It felt... cold. Dreadfully cold. An unnatural, dark cold she only remembered too well from her life in Mordor.
Evil dwelled in this place.
She reached, grasping for her walking stick. Taking the staff, she silently hung it on her back. From the swampy pools a shadow loomed. It walked through the waters, slipping through them like a sly eel. The figure was cloaked in darkness and shrouded by the night and its fog. Yet, even then, icy pale blue eyes shone. This was a wight. Its eyes peered towards her, and she kept low under the reeds and branches. In Mordor, she had been able to control such abominations with her sorcery, but now? She had turned from that path two years ago. Besides that, the deep, horrible aura was far stronger than any spells she could muster. She was in danger here.
Her fingers wrapped around her sword hilt as muddy water dripped off her and ran down her frame. Shivering, keeping still, she hid the best she could from those undead, icy eyes. She waited, barely breathing, for the threat to pass.
