Day 32, Winter 513
Holding three large pieces of paper, rolled up, Dallen trudged up into the pass, determined to get a good view of the city. Re-adjusting the sharpened sticks of charcoal in his breast pocket, Dallen pulled the lapels his bright maroon overcoat over his pale grey shirt. Dark crimson wide-brimmed hat low over his face, he appeared as a small spot of blood in the snow-covered pass. Walking at a determined pace, Dallen finally made it to a small grove of trees, which he was surprised to see a tent, and it appeared to be occupied. Shrugging it off, Dallen found a suitable stump and sat on it, long coat smoothing out under him. Pulling out a smoothed, wooden plank, and unrolled a paper. Pulling out one of the sharper charcoal sticks, Dallen began by sketching the mountains and hills, cold breath forming a light mist around his head. The unrolling of the paper sounded crisper in the cold air. Sighing, Dallen shook his head. It was quieter up here, in the pass. Maybe he should come up here more often... it was harder to find a muse in the city, what with all of the noise and clutter.... Calling out to the man who occupied the tent, Dallen wondered if the man would stab him in the back, saying, "Hello, sir, and if you are there, please don't kill me, and good day! I just wish to draw in peace."