Aeryn climbs down the ladder and exits the still open pair of gates. Neither Xen nor Morgan follows the healer, not wishing to intrude on what may be a personal moment. Down by the beach Chastely speaks for another 10 minutes, talking about the mixed blessing of the storm, about the two deaths, this one and another buried in the elven forests, but also of the 9 survivors who the forest folk recovered and who will live. He concludes on a positive note, stressing his confidence that some of these survivors would soon join them and their fight against the vile drow.<br/>After this he promptly leaves, abruptly stepping down from a wooden plinth and returning to the Hill Fort along with the four bodyguards who had until now been standing vigil over the dead body. The common citizens and soldiers linger on, some approaching to offer a token gift or words, but most are apparently unsure of what to do. The body on the raft, his modesty preserved by a simple white spun cloth seems so uninterested, so beyond anything they can offer.<br/>Waiting her turn Aeryn finally approaches the funeral barge. It is simply made, and the pale wooden planks won’t last long on the water. Her eyes glide over it towards the body at the centre: she does indeed recognize it. Short cropped dark blonde hair, a wide tuff of it below the nose and bristle on the chin. His eyes, now closed, where green in life, and just below them is a scare, a small nick from sword practice. The bare skin of his shoulder, not at all tanned but not quite pale, show signs of muscle tone, but beneath the white cloth evidence of the fat around the stomach is visible. He will lie here for another three hours, before the lowering tide will take his body away to sea.