Beside her was a woman both far more familiar in appearance, yet somehow even more "off". She was dressed plainly, much like any common girl of the village. She was much softer in appearance than her fellow rider, and well fed it seemed. Her hair was short and curly, and a strange hue of red he had never seen before in anyone's hair. It was almost unnatural, as were the many freckles which dotted her face. From her neck hung a silver carving of an acorn. A staff of white oak was bound to her back. She seemed kinder than the other one, certainly more familiar and safe. Dorman quickly looked away as her eyes met his, as he felt his face growing flush.
The other was as different from her companions as they were from each other. Stick-thin upon her donkey, she was shorter than the rest. She certainly seemed that way, with her head and back hunched low. Her entire body was clad in leather armor, or at least leather clothing and bits of armor bound tight by numerous straps and buckles holding everything close to her form. More knives than he ever assumed anyone would need lined a number of bandoliers about her waist and torso, along with strange vials, pouches, and tools whose use he could only guess at. Another, tighter hood of soft leather lay down behind her neck, rising from her armor. Her mop of black hair was a mess, bound only in the back into two short tails at the base of her neck. Her face, her eyes, were strange somehow. More like a girl's in spirit than a young woman the other two clearly were. She noticed Dorman's attention, and smiled a friendly smile.
Dorman jerked back, his face blanched at the sight of the girl's mouth. It was lined with pointed teeth, more like those of an alligator than anything human. The blonde and the red-haired elves shared what seemed a faint, knowing smile as the armored woman rose her hand to calm the farmhand.