Unlike her companions, the halfling didn't make noises of any sort as she travelled along.  Then again, unlike her companions, the halfling was flying.  Feet never touched the ground, so branches never cracked underfoot and the dirt and dust of the road was never kicked up.  She couldn't fly along any faster than her short little legs could walk, but that was alright with her, since it wasn't like she could go any faster any other way.<br/><br/>Wendy Lightfoot, known among her friends as Wendy Warlock.  A beautiful halfling woman, with waist-length dark hair and wide, dark eyes, she was dressed in more modest attire than her tatrist companion, but not by much.  Chainmail armor adorned her small frame, cunningly-crafted to bare as much skin as possible while retaining full protection, and a deep red cloak hung from her shoulders, billowing out from some unseen arcane breeze as she floated along, seeming very relaxed and perhaps not as attentive of her surroundings as she could have been.  A pack hanging from her back held all her worldly possessions, while a crimson scarf bearing arcane sigils completed her little ensemble, two little strips of fabric hanging only a few inches from the ground as she followed the rest of the party up the hill.<br/><br/>Seeing her one of her companions coming to a halt, the halfling halted as well, returning to an upright position and making a soft landing on an overgrown patch of weeds.  Stretching and yawning, she looked around, then back to her companions.<br/><br/>"So, are we there yet?"  She asked, sounding somewhat bored and impatient.  "Seriously, all these hills out in the middle of nowhere are starting to blend together..."