The spirit horse had done her in. She'd thought to stay in the mire until the job was done, no stranger to uncomfortable living conditions. But after a run through the mire chasing after an elf clinging for her life on the back of an undead, spirit ridden monstrosity she had admitted she could use a break. And a bath.

But there were still duties to be done. Before the bone tired templar can see about her own comfort, her current (Marker be praised, living) horse needs to be brushed down and fed. There was no need to go waking people at this hour when she's hardly unable to see to it herself...

Soon. Surely the horse will understand if she just takes a quick breath. Maria's armor clangs loudly as her back hits the wall of a nearby stall and she slides down into a seated position. Just a few minutes. While she was here on her own.