The town was still and tranquil, as if no one dared to disturb the silence and one young woman would be found jogging in the streets of Baska. It wasn't a habit until vry recently, and her idle days have grown into someting more rigorous and strick, bidding her own laws and crafting straw dummies by hand. Her face was a new and foreign one, but the town wasn't to her, and the few civilians that wandered among the roads would stare at her as she passed by. But they did not stir from fear, rather, people liked to stare at odd, shiny things from afar, and she was no different. The woman didn't want to acknowledge whatever they found interesting on her features, be it her clothes or her expressionless face, and she simply busied himself with the morning jog.
Beneath the linings of her worn soles was the sound of scattering, most notably tiny mounds of pebble and dirt that filtered through the spaces in her steps. The harsh, frigid gales that blew across the land were undeniably cold, yet, her attire stated otherwise. It wasn't as if the she was bothered by the winter season and in fact, she loved the cold biting into her skin and now that she had just begun jogging along the path, her body was starting to break out into a fine dew of perspiration.