Stone Circle Heavy are the winds from the east, they have come to see

As he stood there like some amorphous fifth wheel, the girl — who he supposed was Toe-riss — asks if they'll stay. Stay as in stay? After what happened with the Isle, admittedly, Boone grew apprehensive, as nice as these folks seemed.
He was a stranger here. They knew Reverie, somehow; welcomed her with strong arms and a familial embrace, dried the tears that now coated her cheeks, and all he could do was stand there as the shimmer of early Autumn brushed his back. And Lestan. He couldn't help but be curious about that name as it spun around in his mind like a whirlwind. He was somebody, somebody—
For the night. Yes, for the night; that, he at least felt he owed her, and he gives the ghost of a nod to his wayward — well, whatever she was to him. 
The man Goo-nar mutters something about sacred stones and buried souls long gone. Do your loved ones like flowers? his voice cracks before he clears the lump that swells in his throat. S'the least I could do, for, um, lettin' me tag along.