Xi can't stand the rooms they've stayed in... she can't stand not having a window, and the hovels of inns the two adventurers have managed to scrounge up in their journey are far from luxurious, and therefore have only stone or wood walls, candles or lamps casting a waxy, yellow glow over the caves-like walls that encase her.  Thus, in the pre-dawn hours, she's where she always goes when she wakes... standing barefoot in back of the inn, her honey-colored eyes watching the stars fade, the sun's glow hint at the horizon.  She greets the sun this way, her scar-riddled body bare to the cool morning wind except for a blanket she alows to hang from her shoulders, open.  Short black hair rustling in the breeze, she takes great encouragement in the sensation of breeze on her skin.  Sometimes she exercises, working her compact, taut frame back to life from a midnight stupor.  Sometimes she bathes, drinks hot tea, mends her armor, communes with K'tah through self-pleasure.  Sometimes she merely stands, letting the breeze rustle her blanket and kiss her tanned, tattooed skin.<br/><br/>Today is the latter; she feels alive, knows that this is transient, and vows to not go gently.  She watches the hills' shadows as they stare back, a waiting army of stones.  She can smell the swamp out there in the dark... she's ready to go.<br/><br/>She turns back to the inn, resettling her blanket, and sets off to wake Aredhel.