Through the bar and out the back door, Alanna strides purposefully towards her favorite training ground, down by her tree. It's like stepping out into a new world after the dry air of the bar; the fresh spring breeze lifts her hair off the back of her neck and sends it dancing to the side, tangling it hopelessly. She doesn't care.

She can breathe here.

A whirl of motion catches her eye as she crosses the expanse of grass. Pausing nearby, she rests her hand on the hilt of her sword and watches. There's a trace of envy in her gaze, a remorseful look that she won't be able to move like that for a while yet, but the admiration is unmistakable.