Tyrael rode in the back of the wagon, leaning against the side board and snoring lightly.  She had decided to ride in the wagon after she fell asleep riding her own horse and had tumbled to the ground.  Being the seasoned campaigner that she was, Tyrael was clutching her sword to her chest as if it were a plush animal.  She muttered something every time the wagon gave a hard bump.

Nulgaz walked along side the cart. She thought the others should be more comfortable and she knew she took up a lot of room. In the cold she pulled her cloak tightly around her. She tried to keep an eye out for possible ambushes but her mind often drifted to what spells might be needed in possible circumstances.

She saw the pack and gear and was unsure what to make of it. Did this belong to their missing compatriot? Did someone decide to make snow angels and forget their things? Maybe it was a free range gelatinous cube that liked things very tidy? She had no idea and would leave the response to the rest of the party. For her part she wanted to take things that they might need but she also didn’t dare take from someone who might need them more, their rightful owner.