It had occurred to Briar that she could have flown over the town, and even scoped out the manors in the process. Seen how her disavowed countrymen were living it up with servants and wine at the beck and call. But birds-eye maps didn't always translate just right to the human perspective, that had the brief time she had spent in a holding cell during her trial had given her a much more real fear of a cage.
The thought of being captured as a Raven, stuck in a cage so she couldn't even shift was outlandish. It was cruel and unusual punishment by either country's standard, but it was a nightmare that had crept up on her at least twice since she had been caught. So she walked through the village on foot, light steps a habit, though her swishing skirt and boots more focused on durability and warmth than lightness gave her away.
Not that she was sneaking, of course.
Briar was doing nothing wrong this time, a new feeling, since her very existence was evidence of something wrong. In retrospect, maybe that was why breaking the law never bothered her like it should.
She rounded the corner of the building--storage it seemed--to see another woman there. Strong. Tired. Relaxed. Barefoot. Intriguing. Briar pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and smiled at her, looking just a little shy as she peered up at the woman. Even though she was a good ten paces away it was easy to tell the other had a good half a foot on her at least, so looking up at her to make her eyes look wider and more innocent was easy.