Who: The battered, the weary, the . . . pavo Where: The southern baths, in all their hotspring glory When: Day 297, early evening What: Personal hygiene
[This is one thing that hasn't changed, no matter how crazy waking with fur, feathers, unexpected body parts or horrible sinus ooze may be. The bathhouse sits in a circle of torchlight, wisps of steam slipping from the high slotted windows and rising into the cool cave air.]