Steeling himself to find Do'rhajul and Yerig helped Fendros confront the silent bodies along the way. Nothing could stay their impact. He had seen death before, but never at this scale. The quietness of it, like it was a graveyard yet to be dug, it unnerved him. These were people he may have interacted with before the battle. They had given their lives willingly, and yet their deaths still widened a deadly pang of guilt in his chest. Some of the more gruesome injuries only made matters worse. He cleared his throat several times on the way up to the cliff top.

Fendros lead the way behind the scout. He could not see the rest of his group's reaction to the scattered bodies.

At least at the cliff there was a breeze animating the grass and alleviating the oppressive silence. The scene before them as they spread out to regard Yerig and Do'rhajul's body demanded no words all the same. Not without deep consideration. The kind of consideration that made their eyes burn with the reality of it.

Sabine stepped up opposite Yerig across from Do'rhajul and lowered herself to her knees. Her face a sullen frown, she slowly reached for Do'rhajul's hand. It was twice the size of her own hand, cold and calloused under the thin khajiit fur. He was not there anymore. She still tightened her fingers around it.

For a while, they all stood respectfully in the wind. It could have been for hours or minutes.

Sabine lowered her head. Tears dripped off her chin. She mumbled something quiet, swallowed by the breeze.