Sometimes she misses the desert. The great forests of the East are warm enough at this latitude, at least during the summer months, but too wet for her taste.
At least she has long since left Nexus behind her. Worse than Malfeas, that place. People chose to live like that. At least the Demon City has the excuse of his defining nature. Her work now has taken her to the back of the backcountry, where the scattered bands of civilization are easy prey, eager for any edge they can get to aid their survival and willing to pay whatever price. She has met with no small success, converting sometimes entire tribes to the worship of her patrons and their Third and Second Circle spawn. As well as her own personage, of course.
But she's not the only one quietly making a tidy profit exploiting this region. The Guild sends its slaving bands through, snapping up the vulnerable and shipping them to the raksha. This works to her advantage when she gets to an area ahead of them, but just as often, she's a step behind. She's been tracking their favored routes for a while now, and thinks she's pinpointed which track the next caravan will be following in time to set up an ambush. She'll kill the guards, loot the wagons, and offer the erstwhile slaves a choice between conversion and sacrifice. Possibly not in so many words, people sometimes respond better if you keep the whip hand hidden until it is needed.
She brings along a company of tribals to help deal with the Guildsmen. All have been blessed by her gifts, some gone far enough to take the fangs of a lion or the wings of a vulture, and most are devout enough or eager enough to bloody the Guild that she does not need to invoke their geas. She settles them in along the high ridge by the river path to wait.