Aeron held Gwyllion in his arms: her legs dangled stiffly and her head lolled back in a ghastly way. He dropped to his knees a few feet from the fire, and turned his back on it. He didn't want to talk to anybody. Why had she died...why she of all the others?
He wiped his hand across his eyes impatiently. If...if he hadn't gone of on his own...if...he hadn't been a stupid boy, she just might have survived. But..what if she had been doomed to die? What then? Whose fault was it then?
He layed her gently down, and took a rock and began to scrape at the earth. It was cold...frozen like ice. She had to be buried. They couldn't leave her outside. Alone. For the Carrion. The rock dug into his palms as it scrabbled vainly at the dirt. Blood began to seep from his skin.
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