Bronwyn returned to the inn about an hour before the sun. She stripped off her clothes and stood for a while in the tiny shower, letting the hot water rinse away the dust and events of the night.<br/>She changed into her only other set of clothes, resolving once again that she would go shopping the first chance she got, and wouldn't be distracted.<br/>Speaking of distracted, she had passed Malachai on the way to the inn. He hadn't seen her... he had the look of a man who was running as fast as he could from some inner demon that chased after him, howling his name. She had thought about following him, to watch over him and to protect others from him if need be, but the sun was quickly approaching, and following him would end up a suicide mission.<br/>She didn't know why, but Bronwyn felt a certain... responsibility? No... duty. Yes. Bronwyn felt a certain duty and a hint of protectiveness toward Malachai. Perhaps the history they had shared, or the camaraderie that those who were different from nearly everyone else often felt. She didn't know, but knew that she wasn't willing to die yet. Not unless she knew the stakes.<br/>The sun had fully risen now... she was trapped inside for another day.