Deacon stepped back from the coach and dusted his hands off, then deftly reached into the cabin and pulled the arrow still smeared with poison out of the wooden frame to pass to Dahlia.  "Wheel and axles don't look like they had anything blocking the road, and the arrows came from above.  So someplace with a good view of the road, possibly with low-hanging tree branches."  He indicated the items from the sack.  "Not sure what to make of these, aside from the clothes."<br/><br/>He upends a bucket of well water over his head to wash the dirt off and fetches his shirt.  "Sadly nothing really came with a handy dandy signature, but maybe the scene of the attack will treat us better."