She had trusted him, when he said she would be safe here. She hopes, really hopes, that he was telling the truth...

She stumbles forward on two legs. Herself, again, cloak wrapped around her, though the fabric is tattered and stretched. She's drained herself more than she really should have with that little indulgence.

Roxie makes her way towards the pass, pausing every so often to try and recover her breath, though her breathing stays shallow and uneven. Though her face is healed, under the dried blood speckled across it, it's sallow and shadowed.