The squire was a young woman, even by human standards. Of eighteen summers, her golden hair was kept severely cropped though it was uncommon for females to do so. Her entire teenage years have been spent servicing, and learning from the elf Lauralana.<br/><br/>Dressed in simple clothing, she speeds through the camp, limber and nimble as she seeks her Mistress' tent. To Ana the elf woman Lauralana was akin to a goddess. Ana worshipped the elegant maiden, and hung upon her every word much to the elf's chagrin.<br/><br/>The tent that housed the elf was no simple tent, its fabric enhanced by a bit of earth magic to help retain the heat within, and to keep the rain out. The inside was toasty but dark, for the elven eyes of Lauralana needed little light, and such the lanterns were only lit when a human was in need.<br/><br/>"My Lady!" Ana sputtered slightly, even as a slender hand of Lauralana was lifted and the room brightens for the squire's benefit. Seated on a cot was a long limbed woman of indeterminable age. Hair that was spun silver, intricately weaved to be kept close to her head caught the sudden light, eyes that seemed as ancient as the world peered with their greens lifting toward the squire.<br/><br/>"Shhh Ana...remember yourself. In this tent one's voice is kept low...no need for the entire camp to hear what goes on." The voice of the elf was melodic if not a bit cool, her lips do not even curve into a smile when she speaks.<br/><br/>"Forgive me Milady, but our guests have arrived!" That was all that needed to be said, and the woman rises, showing her true hieght. Lauralana was short by elven standards, reaching just under six feet, and the breeches and blouse she wears to unencumber her legs only emphasised her height as she walks with a purpse through the tent flap, toward the growing gathering that heralded an arrival.<br/>