Hoshor Plains Dust to the wind, Blood of my blood...

I think I have their burial customs correct?

She watched Rakharo's shoulders slump in his grief. She did not know who the wolf was, any faint chance of recognition was stolen by the fire. The smoke dulled her senses and blinded her to their surroundings, but she did not fear for her safety. Rakharo would not hurt her, and he would protect her. And there was nothing to fear from the dead.

Rakharo looked to her, and in his eyes she saw loss. Awazzi recognized it in him, as she thought that it looked the same as when he had come to her for guidance. Loss weighed heavy around him. All she could do for him was return his stare with hauntingly blank eyes and say, "a great wolf is left upon a peak, so that he may herd the stars forever. This is known."

A new wolf arrived, a young stranger of the khalasar. Her eyes flicked to him, pinning him with her milky stare. "You, boy," she said, looking him over approvingly. "You will do. I bestow upon you an honor. You shall aid your Khal in the burial, if you accept and the Khal approves." She hummed to herself and nodded, pleased with his timing.