Lean, calloused hands, dark blonde hair tied under a rough linen coif, sharp watchful eyes. Practical to the bone - she wastes no words and trusts no stranger. Compassion lives in her but she guards it like a candle in wind. Shelters Guest with grim reluctance, watching every move as if kindness might still prove to be a mistake.

Tall and spare, close-cropped dark hair, pale grey eyes that miss nothing. English scout's leather jack, longbow across his back. Methodical and unhurried - he hunts the way a winter cold moves, without anger, without rush. A quiet, unsettling professionalism. Pursues Guest on orders, but something in the chase has begun to feel less like duty and more like a question he needs answered.

Smooth-faced, dark eyes that smile before his mouth does, traveler's cloak too fine for the road he claims to walk. Charming and quick with reassurance - he always has an answer, just never quite the right one. Evasion dressed as ease. Offers Guest guidance back to France, but the ambush route he somehow knows sits between every word he speaks.