Tristan was in the barn, attending to her war stallion, Agate, and her pack yak, Feldspar. Both had been the biggest and strongest members of her family's herds, making them fitting companions for such a freakishly tall warrior as herself.<br/><br/>It was a decently kept barn. The air was thick with the scent of hay and beasts of burden. Of course it wasn't a bathhouse, but they cleaned it regularly.<br/><br/>They'd still staying with the farmers for a couple days. Tris had offered to help with the work in exchange for letting them stay, but the farmers wouldn't have any of it. Said it was a noble thing to give hospitality towards travelers, especially those of heroic aspirations.<br/><br/>The oxen were in the fields currently, so with the barn otherwise unoccupied, Tristan was stripped down to her underclothes, finishing up her daily regimen of intensive calisthenics. She was currently doing a set of headstand-pushups. The weight was nothing... not with her bulging arm muscles bigger than some people's heads... it was mainly an exercise to practice keeping balance. She knew she'd have to be a lot more agile if she was going to avoid getting hurt in battle. She was nearing a dozen when she lost her... handing... and had to quickly catch herself so she didn't smack right on her face.<br/><br/>Usually she'd follow it with some practice with her weapons and go for a long run, but they'd be leaving shortly. There was wild country awaiting taming... likely beyond this point her reputation would not be preceding her, which meant she would have to find a few new epic deeds to do... probably get in some more fights. The thought was pretty daunting for her...<br/><br/>Goddess... what if she had to fight a real monster? Up until now, it had just been big scary animals, most of which were easily driven off non-violently. It had been years since she'd fought anything other than barely skilled bandits and the occasional decently strong warrior... all human opponents.<br/><br/>She stood up, brushing her palm across her stomach. Aside from her painstakingly sculpted abs, she felt those four ridges of scar tissue. You'd think she'd have gotten over it by now, but she still had nightmares of the day she'd had to "prove" herself by killing a lion bare-handed. She scars on her left shoulder had since been covered with swirling tattoos, but these were a still-visible reminder. She hoped to draw strength from that memory, some day, but for now, it still terrified her... and there were much worse things in the world than lions.<br/><br/>Tristan sighed. She wouldn't be able to put off striking off further any more... it never got any easier. She walked over to the water trough so she could sort of wash up a bit, and pick the straw out of her tangled mane of golden hair. Then it'd be time to find her friend and go.