The gold flecks in Kyah’s eyes catch the mid morning light filtering through the south facing windows of her room. Batting away the mornings rest, Kyah lays on her bed, the soft satin sheet rising and falling with the intentional breaths. Slow, exaggerated inhales are met with brief pauses, and followed by course exhales that crescendo in a note reminiscent of birds far to the north.

After exactly 8 such breathes, Kyah sits herself up and swings to the edge of the bed. Her legs poke out from her night shirt, which is really just a shirt stolen from Dalomhar, her best friend. Taking the one foot drop from her seat on the bed edge to the stone floor, she bounces on her toes toward a dresser, letting her petite feet adjust to the cold beneath them.

Standing at the dessert table, Kyah strips away the shirt and looks sideline in the mirror to her left. Her face coils at the nose, pulling her full lips up and adding to her perky cheekbones. She paws at herself displeased with the softness of her form, despite her having a stack of names begging for attention.

Refocusing from the mirror, she dawns some light cloths. Loosing an airy, and promptly goes out a small door on the southern wall between her windows. Stepping out, her feet find landing of no more than a few feet in width, but it is more than enough for her. Smiling gently as the wind rises up the wall, tossing her slept in curls about her should, Kyah moves deliberately in the forms of strength learn from the monks in town. For weeks she watched them and learned each pose. Weeks more and she learned why each pose was done and its benefit. A few weeks longer and she mastered them all in a sublime dance to catch the wind. Casual holds of her thick limbs and powerful muscles accentuate the suppleness of her form and the strength within her. Prolonged balanced leaning precariously over the edge of the balcony to the floor of the valley below hone her agility and stability. Careful control of her breathe focuses her will and control of herself.

After half an hour the sweat begins to bead on her skin, and her smile has grown wider. Thr morning thoughts are gone, and she strides with poise and purpose back into the room.

The door opposite her balcony swings open, and the portly Grimmock squeezes in with an all too familiar leering eye. “Knock knock child. I have work for you.”