Joli stirs and takes a deep breath from where she lies enshrouded in a wool knit-- the fire's long since died, and the slats of gray-blue dawning sky through the window make her think, just for a fleeting moment between wakefulness and sleep, that she's still in Uncle Jager's cabin, waking late and having to rouse to make breakfast.  A moment later, the door closes behind Balfor and she blinks suddenly awake-- she's still there, coccooned in the prior evening's aftermath.<i>Unbelievable,</i>she thinks softly, minding the pleasant soreness and the lingering sensation of carresses not soon forgotten--<br/><br/><i>The caravan.</i>The memory jolts her awake, but she doesn't spring to her feet-- like a little cat, she first stretches her way out of the blankets and yawns, flexing every muscle from toes to jaw.  Circulation is required... she reaches her hands high overhead, points her toes straight down, and draws her knees to her stomach as she lavishes over the memories of the prior night.<br/><br/>This is how she wakes every morning at home... naked, stretching, engaging in her morning exercises--  but, suddenly, she sees Lon's pointed ear, his black hair, among the blankets nearby.<br/><br/>She springs to her feet with her hands over herself, mouth working silently.<i>Oh gods, what if he sees me?!</i>Somewhere inside, she knows this is a stupid thing to think.  He saw plenty last night.  Lon and Balfor and Laurin saw more of her than<i>anyone </i>has, but all that courage-- that swagger, curiosity, and confidence-- has left like a bird from its cage.  Her mouth continues to work silently as she scrambles for her shirt and breeches, forming silently the words 'Oh, shit, oh, shit' again and again.<br/><br/>She pauses, though, before she flees from the room half-dressed with her gear in arm-- she lingers nearer, edges closer to Lon, then crouches and places a tender kiss on his cheek.  Blushing furiously, she then exits in a rush to join the others.