It had been hours of journeying through lonely steep mountain passes with nothing but the sound of snow and ice beneath her boots until she came upon the small encampment. There was chatter here, though not the loud banter of a packed city market place, each seller vying to be heard above the din of the crowds. Imenry stood at the slope of the pass and gazed out over the area. Stalls and tents crowded along the rocky outcroppings. Tables cluttered with wares were manned, mostly by Dwarves. Very few seemed to be shopping, but they must catch the occassional traveller on their way to Orzammar or back.
Her eyes were caught by a brilliant glimmer of steel in the distance. A weapon merchant. Certainly she would never give up her father's claymore, but it never hurt to have a back up, and Dwarven made weapons and armor were considered amongst the finest. She moved across the encampment, her stride purposeful.
The man behind the low table was getting on in age, his thick brown beard streaked with grey and he peered at her from beneath bushy brows. But there was no fear in his eyes, no wariness. Dwarves knew and respected a warrior when they saw one, no doubt. Imenry nodded towards him briefly, grey eyes flickering over the blades, searching keenly. She was about to inquire on the price of a small dagger (good for tucking into one's boot, or keeping under the pillow of a bedroll) when the merchant's gaze strayed to something behind her.
Imenry turned slightly, a wrinkle working it's way into her brow at the sight before her. A Dwarven woman, no doubt, but this one was not like the others. For one thing her clothes were very fancy, and not at all suited for travelling. Imenry had seen such people before, and they were usually the ones with money. But this woman... she was alone. She would certainly not last long in such a state. Wealthy people usually had guards of some sort, but not this one, and she was rabbiting about from structure to structure, as if she might somehow be protected by their bulk. It might have been slightly pitiful, but... it could also be an opportunity.
Turning away from the merchant she approached the woman, her movements careful and slow. She seemed like the sort that might scare easily.
"You there," Imenry spoke, keeping her voice pitched over the sudden blast of wind that tugged at her long dark hair. "You're alone?"