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The shadow passed and Garnae slept. But he was alive. He had not passed yet to the beyond, where the final veil of darkness lifts forever and Men wait until the world is renewed. He had too much to be, too much to do. There was more to do yet.
Garnae opened his eyes. It was later in the day now, he was lying upon a makeshift bed. He tried moving his arms, they resisted a little in the blanket folds around him. I feel pain, he thought suddenly as his side twinged. The sky was bright above him. He tried shouting. Not enough strength for that yet. He tried humming. A dry, cracked noise came out.
Suddenly Garnae noticed the frying pan among his other belongings. Crean nudged his side. "Anyone for fried coney?" he yelled with a burst of strength, wondering who to. He smiled.
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