Once he had finished his business with the boatman, Kythor decided it would be best to retire for the evening. There was little else he needed or wanted to do, and besides, he needed some time to recover the energy he had expended in that spell he had cast on Zagren. Quietly, he wandered outside. He wasn't interested in paying for a room for the night, even though he had more than enough money to take care of it. Pushing the stable doors open, he quietly found a pile of hay - one that wasn't occupied by the sleeping dragonborn - and lay upon it, shutting his eyes and quickly falling asleep.
By the time Kythor woke up, he noticed that Zagren had already awakened and left, presumably having gone into the tavern. With a sigh, Kythor pushed himself upright. Today was going to be the day that they set out in search of the missing fishermen, or what remains of them. This would not be a quick journey, he imagined, nor would it be an easy one if a hag was involved. Still, it was what they had agreed upon. The villagers needed it done, and since none of them would rise up to the occasion, it fell upon their little traveling group. In any case, it did him little good to complain, especially to himself. He needed to spend his time in preparation for the upcoming journey, and to do so as quickly as possible. Using his hands, Kythor flattened out the little bed of hay that he had rested on as well as he could. Before he would get breakfast, he would like to spend a moment of meditation, to reattune himself with nature.
Once he was satisfied with the flatness of the bed he had made, he shut his eyes and began to clear his mind. The job they had agreed to, the group he found himself a part of, and even the stables; all of these melted away as he sat and meditated. In his mind, he repeated the teachings of his elders, all of the wisdom that had been imparted to him. The proper way to shoot, how to tend to the injured and dying, how to survive- nay, how to thrive off of the lands they inhabited, where few else could. Though they were mighty, they were also to be humbled, for the natural world was a tempestuous and fickle mistress. One day she can be warm and gentle, then cold and harsh the next, and nowhere in the world was this felt in greater effect than in these lands...
After several minutes of meditation in solitude, Kythor reopened his eyes. Silently, he stood up from the pile of hay that he had perched himself on. After making sure that everything was in its place and nothing had been lost or taken from his person, he stepped out of the stables, entering the tavern. Once he spotted Dullin and Zagren sitting at a table, he decided to join them and pulled up a chair.
"Mornin'," Kythor said.
"You two slept well last night, I hope?" Between Zagren's injuries and how devastated Dullin was at Kythor's decision to leave the woman to her fate last night, he was aware there could easily be issues that had prevented, or at the very least, made it hard for them to get a good night's rest.
"Big guy, how're ya feelin'?" Kythor asked, firing a quick curious glance to Dullin and the cat that had leapt up onto her lap.
Once the opportunity presented itself, he would wave over someone available and order some fried fish for breakfast. While he could, in theory, provide his own breakfast with ease, it would be a wise idea to start the day off with a hot meal before they headed out.
