Lion Head Mesa Vvardenfell

The doctor was in.

With the girl resting and the guardian keeping watch over her, Gil could wander the palace to her heart's content. She did not hold much interest in the various sleeping quarters, or the catacombs when she came upon them, or even the wellspring; only, as she roamed she made a mental tally of what must be done. Where more dusting must happen. What herbs might freshen the waters of the spring, should she be fortunate to find any.

She wandered to a storeroom to inspect the things gathered there and, collecting a few bits of tinder-dry spoils (which she meant to toss off the side of the palace). As soon as the bundle was ready and she had it in her teeth, she turned to go—and a nimble figure came dashing up the hallway, nearly colliding with her.

Ohmnn! She drops the bundle and it goes splintering like tufts of feather on the wind, rolling beneath the stranger's long, silent strides. Gil did not recognize them; but they were so quick! All she could discern in that flash of startled momentum was the ruby red of eyes.