Did she really just shoot the stranger the thumbs up?

Her freckled face flushing with embarrassment, Rayleigh turned on her heel, and strode away from the other woman. There was a sway in her step, a forced nonchalance that she hoped was convincing, but assumed was not. Even as she moved deeper into the valley the mountains of treasure created, Ray could feel the gaze boring into her back. Not that she would even recognize the gesture from Earth, Rayleigh scolded herself. The gesture that Vincent had taught her upon their first meeting. As the sound of boots scuffing along the packed earth filled the still air, she knew she was being followed.

A moment passed, and all the while Rayleigh measured her own breathing to better hear the sounds of her pursuer. She could not do what she had come to do while being tailed, which greatly complicated matters. If the woman insisted on stalking her, Ray was better off simply turning around and going home. Frustration replaced the embarrassment riding high on her red cheeks. At this rate, the night would be wasted, and the trip that she had been so looking forward to would be a complete bust.

Finally, she turned back, lifting her lantern as high as her short arms would allow. The small circle of light that it cast fell just at the feet of the other woman, and she remained largely in shadow. Yet, even if she had stood directly beside Ray, the Alerarian surmised she would be equally impossible to read. She had a face like stone, and that was not simply in reference to her sharp features. There was nothing soft about this woman, nothing feminine save for her hair and curves; in hiding both, she could easily pass as a man. This was not to say she was not beautiful, because even in the dim light, Rayleigh found herself thinking so. Rather, there was something hard about her. Something Rayleigh could not fully comprehend, nor relate to.

"Do you need something?" she asked, "or are you just following?"

The other woman remained stoic, but there was an edge to her voice which Ray recognized as amusement. "Following," came the easy answer, "but I need an exit. I do not wish to go climbing back over the fence." Her voice was deep, but by no means gruff. It could be velvety when it wanted to be, Rayleigh mused. When there was humor lurking beneath it. "I assumed that since you are here entirely legally, you would be able to lead me to the front gate."