The tree trembled slightly as the stranger lounged against it. Snow slipped from Elle's shoulder, landing softly on the ground just to the man's right. She was directly above him, motionless, watching with deadpan eyes.<br/><br/>Her representation on the poster was exaggerated to compare to the laundry list of places she had supposedly been and things she had supposedly done. In reality, her pale blonde hair framed her face in long bangs, the rest pulled into a habitual high ponytail that hung down at her lower back even when restrained. Her features were lovely but in a distant way, untouchable like a glacier and just as cold. Her eyes, grey and sharp, were unreadable. She looked proud, almost haughty face-to-face, with the air of unspoken nobility to her at first glance. The portrait on the poster cut closer to her legend than her appearance: her illustrated face was deeply shadowed and tinged with hard lines, the drawn eyes looking menacing and heartless. It was surprising how well the artist had portrayed what she seemed like to her victims. The Shadow was not a name of Elle's invention, after all. The wanted poster portrayed her so that anyone who had reservations about killing a woman would be railing to take her in. She looked more monster than mortal on paper. Elle regarded her caricature from her perch, unamused.<br/><br/>She did not have to carry physical reminders of her marks. The image that was described to her by her retainer was pressed into her mind, lurking just under her thoughts. A clear-faced man with blue eyes, no pupils, often traversing strange lands in search of coin. "Mark my words," Gulrich had growled when he finished his description, wiping his hands on his trousers. "That man has what you're looking for, or means to get to it." Elle had said nothing. It was best not to belay her hope to men like Gulrich, who priced dreams to the penny and milked Elle's skills for all they were worth.<br/><br/>No matter the way the tip had come to her, Elle knew that she was staring down at it as she lurked in the trees. If she was one to believe in lucky stars, she would have thanked one. Slowly, so as not to draw the man's attention, Elle slipped her bow from her shoulder. She inched an arrow out from the quiver and nocked it, drawing the string back.<br/><br/>"Don't move," she said, her voice soft. There was no threat in her tone, but the simple unspoken fact that she would shoot him if he disobeyed followed her words.