A group of horses race across the plains, kicking up dirt as they run. The riders atop are armed and armoured, with one individual leading the group. This individual is a Man with a rugged face, and his dark brown hair blows back from the wind as he rides. The man's eyes scan the horizon, searching for any sign of a village, town, or settlement. He needs to find them quickly. With a quick squeeze of his legs, the man steers his horse towards a nearby hill, hoping to have a better view of the surroundings. The man rides up the hill and dismounts. He looks out over the rolling plains, his eyes sharp as he surveys the surroundings. There are no settlements in sight. He curses under his breath, knowing that he has a long way to go. He looks up at the sky and scans for the sun's location. It is well past midday, and the day is drawing later. He knows he should seek shelter soon, as travelling at night was too dangerous. The man turns towards his horse and pats its neck. The horse whinnies softly and nuzzles against him, seeking his comfort. The man looks down at his steed, his face soft for just a moment. He then leads the horse back down the hill, mounting it again. He continues to ride across the plains, his eyes darting from horizon to horizon.