Continued from A Brush With Death, A Sweep With Dinner
Shaya stretched as she left the Sun-room. It had taken six months, but she had finally whittled herself down to ten minutes in it, morning and night, and she was feeling much better for it, especially in the mornings - no amount of time would ever make her a morning person.
She stifled a yawn, and nodded as she walked past the guard; these days, she was permitted to roam freely between the library and the training rooms, and she relished the small allowance of freedom.