Sindalea leans back against the mossy rocks and stares into the distance. The sun has started to set, illuminating the Twilight Lake with a dim, violet glow. The woman sighs, having longed for this moment of solitude for a while now. For the first time since leaving Bree, she lights up her thin wooden pipe. Sweet, intoxicating smoke fills her lungs. The voices and sounds coming from the Rangers' camp are slowly drowned out of her mind, leaving her to her own thoughts.