Kimber shifts uncomfortably in the cramped box seat, only half-registering their companions' conversation, eyes locked on the road ahead. They grip the reins tightly and regularly scan the deepening shadows stretching long across the forest, blinking in an attempt to clear bouts of dusk-blindness caused by the sun's descent.
As they focus on sussing out whether a rustle of leaves might be the rustle of something else, they pay special mind to the draft animals pulling the carriage and any subtle changes in their demeanor— such as the uneasy flick of an ear, or the nervous twitch of a tail.
"It's dark, and getting darker. Are we laying up for the night?" they call back quietly over their shoulder. "Our friends pulling the carriage will need rest and tending soon, either way."