The entrance to the mine being more exposed than both town streets and any given forest path, it's actually possible to catch Niabi's approach before she joins the group. She's got a stout stave in hand for both testing and leveraging rocks and a hearty looking pair of leather work gloves tucked into her belt but is otherwise lightly dressed, especially for the lingering chill of mountain winter. It's not an oddity; appropriately dressed has always seemed to mean something different to her.

She plants feet and staff next to Lance, and eyes the mine with frank distrust. Shakes her head slightly at the cry.

"Not ours." It's said confidently enough. And direly. She'd be happily surprised to find some folk that had somehow missed the Captain's count, but she trusts him too well and has seen too much over the years to believe it.