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[Xana]

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By the time Xana's healing process had progressed to the point that she was able to travel even short distances, the remains of Maman Sabine had long been cremated.

Discovering this wounded Xana to the center of her being. The loss was painful, but not nearly so as not having had a chance to pay proper respects.

It was time, she decided, to leave this camp of death and illness behind. Even the healers agreed there was no reason to abstain from going forth, and back into the world which she loved to travel--if only she would agree to take care of herself and avoid the habits that had ultimately led to the ordeal of her own brush with death.

She gathered the few belongings she had here in this place, and left the land of Ilshenar. For reasons few would understand, she alternately walked and rode to Cove, and there at the water's edge she sat with her lute.

Staring out at the water at dusk, she clumsily strummed the instrument--her musician's hands long unused and unpracticed, and sang a song of bravery in the face of loss that once upon a time, in her own youth, she had sung to a little boy.
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An artist is a creature driven by demons ~Faulkner