Daytime trips did not agree with Uxía. Even with the polite bowing of trees over a well trodden path, it wasn't quite enough to keep garish light from occasionally falling into her eyes. She disliked it, and her eyes narrowed each time a happily indifferent sun ray struck her in the face.<br/><br/>She walked with the caravan. It is a perfectly normal and inconspicuous thing to do. The abnormal thing was that she didn't wear a top while doing it. Her breasts bobbed freely, pale and pink capped, untethered in the same way that others were. Of course, she wore a skirt, because without one, sitting down would be unsanitary. Someone earlier in the day had convinced her that she should at least wear sandals to protect the bottom of her feet from loose nails and glass along the road, and so far, they had proved their use. Her feet, albeit tired, were unharmed from the wear and tear of walking alongside wagons and horses.<br/><br/>In earnest, the talk of potatoes confuses her. Perhaps the only thing that might be more unappealing to talk about than bland, boring potatoes is how they might be used in ways non-food related. And so she interrupts what the two are talking about in front of her by announcing her intentions with the earned copper: "Keep them. Invest them. They will be useful, in time, to pelt at annoyances."<br/><br/>