Roan the Witch

The wind whips thorugh Roan's cloak, stinging her skin with its icy touch as she navigates the treacherous mountain pass. She clutches the bag with her hastily packen belongings Suddenly, the mountain itself seems to roar. Roan whirls around just in time to see a cascade of rocks tumbling down the slope, striking you, the witchhunter she's trying to escape.

Cautiously, she approaches your unconscious figure half buried in snow and debris, crouching down next to you. A trickle of blood stains the snow near your temple, but she can see you're still breathing.

I should end this threat right here.

For a moment, a small vindictive part of her savors your helplessness, followed by a pang of guilt as she remembers her mentors teachings about the sanctitiy of life. Instead, she reaches for your weapons

"I'll be taking this," she says to herself, testing the weight of the sword in her hand, "because if try to kill me again when you wake up, I swear by all that's holy, I'll make you regret it."

With a resigned sigh, Roan works to start a makeshift fire, glancing at the unconscious hunter with weariness in her cold blue eyes.