Sleeping with sheathed sword tucked into the nook between head and elbow Nyala awoke the next morning to the sound of small birds, their ululating mating calls resounding through the branches overhead. The sun was not yet out, at least not below the forest canopy but the birds could spy it as it crested and greeted it gaily. Nyala, as with most woodsmen, was a light sleeper and she awakened instantly. Unlike city folk those who dwelt in the wilds could not afford to sleep in, nor slowly rouse and peer about groggily.

The others in the city would not awaken for some hours yet and even then would not reach the city's gates and be ready to venture out on their quest until some time after. That gave her some time. Not having any notion that the druid from the tavern was near Nyala moved deeper into the forest. Stories often told of maidens bathing in serene pools and standing under waterfalls. Such things were rare. Nyala made her way to the nearby brook, a slender stream of water that scarcely reached her knees. Shedding her clothing she waded within and washed herself of bodily odours and the smells the city had inflicted upon her.

While bathing she considered the upcoming quest. She, the druid, and the archer were likely going to need to forage for those questing. There were a lot of mouths to feed and the less they relied upon rations the longer they would last. Hunting involved a spear. She would have to craft herself one after she finished bathing. She carried several spearheads in her gear in case she needed to go hunting, and hafts she could fashion easily enough from her environs. She also had bowstring and arrowheads but fashioning a bow would take dissimilar woods, hewing wooden slats, lathing, wetting and curing before finally binding those dissimilar woods into a plane. She didn't have anywhere near that amount of time.