Her first glance of the lead car told the story. A tight cluster of stony-faced ponies dressed in fancy clothes meant one of two possibilities: either they were an extended family on their way to a funeral, or—even worse—a wedding. It was nothing she wanted anything to do with; turning tail, she passed back into the coach proper, stretching herself out across the frontmost seat on the right side of the coach. She knew from her travels that this side more often faced over the lowlands, which gave her a better view than a rock wall.