Twisted Slough the ground beneath us is shaking, the sheep are finally waking

At the best of times, Riley was not one for words. He stared down at the body as Masque spoke - on both of their behalves.

Was there anyone at the Rise that would care? This was such an unpleasant thought, it elicited a knifeblade of discomfort in Riley. If it was him face down in the bog instead of Ashlar, he supposed it was the same thing. Only Masque would care.

This made him realize he loved the Rise less.

It was awful to think he'd died out here alone, but to Masque's point, Riley wondered if there wasn't something poetic about it. I guess... They're together now. He didn't say it, but he knew that he and Ashlar were one in the same in that regard. Life was already so hard -- why live it if your only source of joy was gone?

He grunted, bending down to inspect where was best to grab him. Every part of Once-Ashlar was sodden and fragile. There was no escaping it - he inhaled, held his breath, and grabbed Once-Ashlar's spine -- grunting for Masque to take the lead on the direction while he tugged the man from his murky deathbed.