Cedar was taken aback by the 'resurrection' of the corpse. He could tell from the lingering odor that it was NOT true resurrection, and the implication that .. it .. could not meaningfully lie, meant its mind was not its own. Things that troubled and upset him in a visceral way he couldn't put into words.

He quietly collected the leather working tool roll, and left, asserting he was going to go bring the horses up.

Anderson asked if that meant that he had been successful, while matilda commenced her 'interrogation'. This was something he did not have much stomach for.  He responded the affirmative at Anderson, then shot a glance up at the angry cawing crows, before making contact.

The birds cawed even angrier at him at first, torn between peevish umbrage of being forced off of their meal, and severe vexation at his unwanted presence in their heads.  They seemed somewhat comforted that the bearman shared at least some of their displeasure over 'dinner' getting up and moving again, at least.

Cedar offered them a 'consolation prize' if they would follow him outside and answer a few questions.

At first they did not seem interested, but his mind wandered to the taste of the exotic fruit with the gelatinous seed pulp again, with its lovely sweet and floral flavor. They were more interested in it being soft, and easily eaten by beaks, and by the implication that this bear could just make some grow on demand. They'd be interested in seeing that latter trick, before accepting any such exchange.

Cedar huffed without saying anything aloud, and just let them know to meet him outside, near the ruined wall. They cawed at him some more, then took off to witness the promised spectacle.

Not missing another beat, he headed downstairs then back outside through the way he had come in.  The crows had perched at safe locations on the sides of the tumbling wall, and were looking up at him expectantly. 

He looked at the wall, looking for the right combination of 'intactness' and 'well fertilized' that the makeshift stable afforded, then planted and guided the growth of another of the lovely vines that produced the soft yellow spheres, guiding it up the wall along the more sturdy of its masonry as its terrace.

The crows seemed to laugh in delight at this development, before fluttering onto the vine near some of the fruit to sample the wares. Excited cawings rang kut as the discovered the bear was not full of it, and had recalled accurately.

He smirked.

The stupid louts, and their choice of stables has tainted the water here, making it unsafe to drink. He made contact again with the crows, who were once again put off by having meal time interrupted, before bemusedly telling them he intended to plant grapes too, for his own reasons. He was interested in clean water, not fruit at this time. Despite feeling like he was a bottomless hole inside, he had been seriously put off the idea if eating by the reanimation of the human corpse. The crows laughed, and extended their own vexations about it, but felt his loss of appetite to be their gain-- if he didn't want the grapes either, they would happily eat them for him.


He looked further along the wall for a suitable place to grow them, with a fairly dry patch nearby that could safely hold a drip catch container, then planted a few grape pits and set to work while the crows ravaged the lovely yellow spheres adorning the wall. A lovely table grape cultivar revealed its identity, with large purple grapes maturing under his care in the waning afternoon sun. Gingerly, he plucked one, and sampled it. It was lovely, but that strange feeling of mingled disgust, unease, and hunger was all that really met his effort.

The crows, having gorged on fruit, eyed the grapes appraisingly before flapping down near him making short calls, apparently satisfied with the peace offering and considering him 'all right' after all, unlike the meal thieves.

He sat down beside the wall to ask them his own questions...