Hearing voices coming through the door to her room causes her to stir from sleep and stiffen. Sitting up in bed she stares at the door trying to fight off the mental fog that's letting her forget where she is, why she's here and who's talking.

Slowly remembering that she was caught in a storm and she stopped in an inn for food and shelter she soundlessly slips from bed taking her unsheathed sword with her, it had been laying in bed under the sheets with her. She tip toes to the door and presses an ear to the door ready to move should she have to.

She relaxes considerably when she hears the innkeepers' voice. More refugees from the storm still ragging outside. Curious she quietly moves to stand with her back against the wall just beside the door and listens to the so far one sided conversation at the other end of the hall. Her weapon still at the ready but now lowered to her side.