Lyra's stomach growled gratefully as she bit into her own rabbit, the savory flavor enriching her senses. The food soaked up the mead from the previous evening. A bit of a headache had been pounding at her temples, and was beginning to subside. She'd never been much of a drinker, and her body wasn't pleased with its effects.

As Finrod mentioned stopping for supplies, Lyra nodded, but inside, fretted a bit. She was nearly out of funds, and was uncertain she'd be able to afford much that would help on their journey. She'd have to forage and hunt, she decided. Even if it slowed them down, she wouldn't be ashamed. She was a survivor, and she would do what she did best.

Considering Finrod's suggestions for their next destination, Lyra weighed the options carefully. 

"I think either the Greybeards or Karthspire could be promising," Lyra said thoughtfully. The College of Winterhold was tempting, but she was a bit ashamed of her lack of knowledge in the realm of magic. Besides, she wasn't sure the urgency of their visions. Could they afford to take their time?