"There is a tradition among my kin," she replied. "Or at least among rangers anyway. It states that if someone takes the life of one you love, then you pick one of your arrows marked as a way to exact...I suppose you might call it vengeance." She pulled the arrow from the quiver, revealing one that other than the feathers was almost identical to the others. "I would not advise touching the point of this arrow, it is laced with a...potent venom, one from the islands I once called home."<br/><br/>She threw her cloak over her shoulders, completing her look from the night before, any hint of vulnerability vanishing in an instant.<br/><br/>"I should warn you, my friend keeps a horse especially for me," she said, chuckling. "She is...unique, if any other rider tried to bend her to their will they would find themselves sat on their backsides in moments."