The wind whipped at her black cloak, threatening to tear the hood back off her head and expose her mane to the elements. It was a little thing, too small for her that she had taken from a clothesline of some griffon family in a village they had passed through. She did not care, as she stood on the rocky outcropping overlooking patchy woodland leading downhill and into the busy valley where farmsteads and hamlets lay nestled against the city of Skymount, like a crowd of chicks around a mother hen. The placid vision the valley exuded was marred by the occasional screech of trains leaving and entering the city along the train tracks running alongside the main cobblestone road, itself following the path of the Opal Tear river.