A very difficult woman to catch in any sort of predictable place, she tended to pop up with neither rhyme nor reason for her comings and goings. An odd sort who was as wild and impulsive as her namesake, Storm, she plunged headfirst from one land to the next. Such as it always had been, such as it always would be. And today was no exception. Fate found her in Bree-land, on a clear day that had been warmed to summer's gentle touch. Clouds like bunches of freshly-picked cotton dotted the sky, the soft whisper of oak leaves rustled in the breeze, and the scent of earth and life curled over hill, rock, and dale. Sun shone off the grass, turning the hills of Bree-land into a verdant, softly-glowing landscape.
A large black stallion stood atop a hill, head twisted to placidly stare at the figure that was hobbling around him. She was a thin woman, tall and lanky, wielding a cane that was clearly serving to favor her right leg. Nonetheless, she refused to let such a handicap impede her, limping around the horse with a fiery zeal to yank things out of saddlebags and toss them over her shoulder. The ground was littered with a myriad of objects...some vials filled with liquids of various sorts, some scraps of parchment, some inkwells and quills that had seen better days, and other mismatched odds and ends. Coming closer, a stream of chatter was pouring nonstop from her mouth.
"What do you mean I lost it?! How could I lose the map?! It's a bloody piece of paper with..." She waved her arms wildly, staring her horse down as if he could provide the answers. "Stuff! Stuff written on it! And drawn...it was important stuff! Now if it was the teapot, that I might've lost because teapots are boring, but I wouldn't have lost the map!"
Her horse simply stared exasperatedly during her ranting and frenzied, if not futile, attempts to rifle through the saddlebags for the dozenth time. With a soft whuffle, he bumped her shoulder hard enough to send the lanky woman scrambling for balance before she looked up with an indignant expression. Shifting her weight to her left side and propping her hand firmly on her hip, she jabbed the tip of her cane in his direction.
"Oi! Don't give me that attitude, this is probably all your fault! Aye, aye, it is. If you hadn't gone running off to that alfalfa as if I never feed you, we might not be in this mess. So there." She poked him gently in the shoulder with her cane to prove her point, grumbling, "Lost the map, indeed..."
After a time, the shadows had lengthened and the air had turned gold. The woman rubbed at her hip with a light grunt, lowering herself to the ground before plopping down the last few inches and stretching out her legs in front of her. Leaning back on her hands, she tilted her head back and let the breeze blow through her short mop of messy, dark hair as her stallion plodded over to her and nosed her shoulder. She twisted her head, grinning fondly at her loyal friend.
"We'll get there, Jack. Won't we? Bree-land ought to have changed, and if it hasn't, all the better! Lovely place, innit?" She set down her cane and reached a hand up to scratch him between the ears. "I love Bree. All the sights, and the smells, and the stories! People going 'round, forgetting about their differences, injecting life and spirit into a town that you'd never expect. Different than how Arnor expected her legacy to play out, I'd wager, but lovely. And simply brilliant."
She took a deep breath, letting it settle out to join the late afternoon breeze. Both horse and rider stayed there for a long time, sharing in the simple, clear moment of peace.
