Gilly had moved back to his spot next to Rannor and Derrin, waiting politely for their friend to return to consciousness once more and begin to rest his body. The harsh cold was still wondering in the mountain air, although without the storm above, the temperature was rising slowly. Derrin continued to check over his pulse and soon took his time tending to any injuries Howan or Gilly had. Howan would need food and something to control his ever present nausea. They would all be best at the Keep, at least until the next group came home. 

Roran jumped somewhat when the usual barks of anger were sent towards him. The gates of Cannor and the men inside were said to be kind and share a bond like no other army alive, clearly it wasn't true. Fortunately conversation was twisted back, moving towards it's original subject of Ysabel. He was grateful. He stepped back and shifted his feet in the snow. He was uncomfortable at best, especially when it came to dealing with elders. Perhaps it was the years in the cold that had made them harsh. 

Roran fumbled for a short moment before disappearing to find his closest friends. Thankfully, the Capital would not have been watching the mountains, they never did. However, as soon as anyone found out about Ysabel, she'd be the most wanted individual in the whole country. Regardless, she'd need a hand in getting out. She wasn't safe north, west or east and South was just as dangerous. He watched her disappear into the rook too, drifting off into sleep. Everyone was curious, perhaps for different reasons. Everyone expected her to reveal a different secret. 

The rest of the camp slowly stirred into life and as the hour passed, each of them prepared for the journey home. Gilly, Roran and Howan would travel behind on foot, making their way home at their own pace. Roran suspected Ysabel would travel by horse, Rannor too. She'd be trialed before they got home. It was at least a days walk, but no more than a four hour ride, at a fast pace. Without the winds and snow, it would take less time. She'd be trialed for theft, and no doubt her ability would be revealed. It wasn't his duty but if she was what he suspected, he couldn't let her die. Instead, Roran clung onto the vague hope, the thin string and desperate desire that she would be safe. 

Fraym and the elders prepared their horses before waking Ysabel. Roran, Gilly and Howan had pulled on their remaining belongs and doused the fire. The firepit here would save for another group when they passed the rook. Gilly adjusted the snow where their friend was buried and laid down the thick cloak over the mound. A carful arrangement of stones and it would provide as a decent grave. There was no family to inform, aside from those at Cannor, but after the flash, each of them doubt they expected anyone to come home.