Xen would certainly have brought the gear, and entering the cave is quite glad, for once, to be out of the open.  She answers in elven,<em>"I see..." </em>Perhaps the pretty druid means love in a... er... family-like way?  Xenathiel knows almost nothing of love... she knows about hunting, trapping, building shelter.  She knows about sneaking up on her enemies and losing herself to the fervor of slaughter.  Lust is like that... it can be sated.  But love?  She emits a lengthy sigh and resolves to deal with the awkwardness of the situation later...<br/><br/>...and, then, things get a little more tense as she feels a little kiss at her throat.  Damned enough that the human's body was pressed to hers on the long walk, now it's going to get worse.  Well, admittedly, it wasn't exactly<em>bad</em>to feel that rush of warmth and that quivery-sort of urgency and enticement in her lower belly... in fact, it was an adequate restoration for her constitution, for just a moment, but by the time they ascend the hillside to Morgan's cave, the barbarian seems exhausted, sweating as if she's just completed some great task, and out of breath.<br/><br/>Once in the cave, she kneels and eases the human onto a soft blanket.  She leans back, then, against green-ray stone that is cool against her back.  The barbarian catches her breath and watches the young woman for a moment or two more, relieved that-- unlike many of the villagers she has known-- this one is not obsessed with or offended by her own bared body.  She closes her eyes a moment and calls out to Moran in their native tongue,<em>"Thank you for extending to us your home, sister."</em>She listens to Aeryn's question, and nods subtly.<br/><br/>She speaks in common.  "You speak the language that the villagers speak... perhaps you are from the same place..." she gives her head a quick shake to clear her thoughts.  "Yes, Aeryn.  The poison has weakened me, but I think I shall recover."  She turns to indicate the druid.  "Please see to Morgan first."