There was howling in the distance, muffled words and then silence. The worst had come to pass. The party had been reduced in size by one, the undead given rest.

Things were calming down around the camp fire, the Cleric was tending to the emotional needs of Vis, as was her duty. but the atmosphere was still tense. The Paladin returned and seemed eager to leave this behind her. Her injuries were superficial, and the pain in her face and her pride as a Paladin made Batche feel like she shouldn't push her luck, if Lily wanted medicine, she would ask. 

Mister Korick invited questions, few had them. It was hard to tell if it was because we knew so little about what was about to happen or because we didn't want the answers to the questions we did have, not after what just happened. The silence was keeping Batche safe, for now, but wouldn't help her much in the future and honestly didn't have much to ask either. She look down at her fingers and delicately cleaned them, _what would she usually do in a situation like this?_ Usually she'd be chipper and upbeat, chat and gossip about essentially trivial things, about the people and events du jour. And she'd play the harp for the clients, if she hadn't much to say to them. Would a song soothe the Paladin's residual rage? 

"_Be still, my soul: Ilmater is by thy side,_

_bear patiently the pangs of grief or pain,_

_leave to thy God to order and provide_

_in every change the faithful will remain._

_Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend_

_through thorny ways leads to a righteous end._"