The villagers and pilgrims all look so plain, most of the time. Sure, some have fancy clothing and gems, but Roesia can mimic their colors with the gifts of the woods, if she so chooses and shiny stones come from the earth here, too. The redhead with her splash of freckles is almost a welcome surprise; not marked by ink, as Roesia has been, but marked by the gods themselves.

Her smile is friendly, even with the widening eyes of the village girl. There's no need to startle her any further, and Roesia gently strokes down the dappled filly's neck.

"I expect her tracks would have been found easily enough; not many horses in the woods," she laughs, gathering up the lead in her hand. "The sound of her crashing about is what had me find her, at least."

As cold as it is, much of Roesia's ink is covered. It's a gloved hand that offers the lead to Pippa, but she's closer now, and the slit cut into her tongue is visible despite the hood of her cloak.

"She's had some water and snacks, though; hasn't run herself too ragged. Doesn't appear injured."