Yulia manages to briefly doze off again as Galathiir strokes her hair, but Margolynn's music disturbs her again.  Much as she wishes she could sleep the whole day away, the smell of the sizzling pork keeps her from being too irritable.  Grumbling, she brushes a kiss against Galathiir's jaw.  "Gotta pee," she mumbles as she squirms her way free of the bedroll, the movement rousing Moggin, who uncurls from his black ball and gives her a withering look before slinking off.<br/><br/>Stepping out into the dawn air, Yulia stretches toward the sky, already feeling much more awake now that she's on her feet.  As usual, she hadn't worn anything to bed, and the sun feels gorgeous.  The rain clinging to the foliage has begun to steam in the rising heat, giving an ethereal quality to the woods.  Outside the entrance to the hollow, the two nervous pack mules the group picked up in Dannerhall shelter under the boughs of an old ash, munching from their feed bags.<br/><br/>With nature's call answered, Yulia follows her nose back to the cookfire, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand.  She quirks an eyebrow at Margo as she takes a seat, accepting a plate.  "Now what is the point of inns if you can pull this off on a campfire in the woods?"  She tries not to look too closely or think too hard about the fine service as she digs in, not wanting to spoil the effort Margo put into her illusion.  Out of the corner of her eye, she catches sight of Moggin skulking about the cook's heels, eyeing the discarded scraps of pork fat.<br/><br/>She scoots over on her log as Lissa comes out of the hollow, making space.  "Still think we can make the godstone by dusk?"