"Taya? Are you up here?"

Taya spends several seconds to identify the owner of the voice. Sage, not the boy's. Another few seconds to process that she would be awake. She nestles further under the blanket like a sleeping hamster. She feels disappointed and annoyed for being interrupted, knowing full well that the next time she dreams, the reflection will be incredibly smug. How did he know, anyway? And why couldn't she find out his name? There had to be a way.

"Are you still asleep?" Sage's voice is closer, now. "It's almost noon."

Reluctantly, Taya rolls onto her side and slits her eyes open. The healer smiles over the top rung of the ladder in true Morning Person fashion. She eyes him from the safety of bed. "Noon isn't late enough," she mutters. "And you said I was supposed to take it easy."

The healer leans his chin on the top rung of the ladder and quirks an eyebrow. "I meant you should avoid running marathons, not lying around all day. Unless you'd like your muscles to atrophy?"

"Mmph?"

"Stop working because you never use them."

Taya jerks her head up and stares at Sage. He's only joking, right? She couldn't tell, he was excellent at unreadable expressions. "...Would it happen so quickly?"

"Oh yes," Sage replies gravely. "You've been resting for three, four days now? It may be too late already."

"What... what do I do?"

"Get dressed and come downstairs to help me hang herbs."

Taya scowls and hides beneath her pillow again. "Ask Koneko to help you."

"I would, but she's visiting her family today." He listens to the resultant pause and takes it as assent enough to step down a rung on the ladder. Taya reaches for the small bag she grabbed the night of the fire and tips it upside down. Empty. She stares at Sage.

"Where are my clothes? I had clothes in here."

"Being washed. I left some on the chair that you can use."

With another sulky glare, Taya wanders to said chair. She lifts up a shirt, expecting a frumpy faded tunic. She gapes. The cloth is smooth and stretchy under her fingers. The shirt gathers in the front with three rows of laces and flares at the arms while curving in snug against the torso. The style is a few years dated but the shirt is pristine; it's the type of shirt Adenne would wear if it were still in fashion. Below it on the chair rests a crinkled, flowing, skirt.

She looks again at Sage's face, or what fragment was still visible over the edge of the loft. Why would he have a collection of women's clothing?

"My patients donate things all the time out of appreciation," he interjects a little too quickly. She can't see his face, but she imagines that he averts his eyes anyway. "Furniture, books, blankets, for instance, and clothing. Not very often do I have a young lady I can give them to, however."

Taya feels her cheeks burn for no good reason. Sage vanishes from her range of vision.

"You may keep them if you like. As I said, they never really get worn." His voice goes quiet, briefly. "I'll be waiting for you in the kitchen."

She listens to the soft plunking sound of sandals against ladder rungs and holds the shirt across her chest. It could look really nice on someone besides her. Who would give it away?

Then again, most of her former roommates would. They each had ways of cleaning out and freshly replacing half a closet's worth of clothing twice a year. Maybe it was one of those things she didn't fully grasp because she was Taya and not normal.

Brushing the thoughts aside, she gets dressed.