Had she been more religous, Deneve might have prayed for the souls of the dead, but now she just stood and watched the water awkwardly. "Fate is a bitch," she muttered. "And the universe has dark sense of humor."<br/><br/>After a moment of silence she speaks again. "Well I wouldn't mind going to your camp." Then she looked at humans, thinking. She had a wand with spell that would restore fatique and some of the damage caused by the sun, but it had limited uses and it had cost her a lot of gold. After a moment she decided not to mention it. The humans were safe and short rest would aid exhaustion as well as the spell would anyway. And she knew well enough that in combat and in adventure someones life could someday depend on the spell.