He unwrapped it and set up the candle and lit it with a spell. It was a bit of effort, and with the wind as it was, he had to position his body just to keep it lit before spreading out the dried, press posies, dyed in various patterns onto the grave marker. He then repeated the process for the stone next to it. It was a strange tradition—even Happy Hour had said as much, to which Warm Night could only shrug and smile wryly. He never had a good answer for it. His mother was from a more insular part of Equestria. They did things differently there, and she passed on more than a few of her traditions to him before she herself had passed on. Welcome Sight never objected to any of them, even if he never adopted them himself. Somehow, though, Warm felt he’d approve of this one.