This she finally accomplished, although not without considerable
difficulty.
Weeping now, she pretended that she could not see what she could not
help but see and which only her tears could blur mercifully, which was
the terrible ravages of his torment in the final stages before his
death. She reached across to gently fold the two exposed edges of the
tent flap together full-length, and over the crossed arms of the man's
ruined body, covering all with the animal skin, and stopped suddenly to
bend low over him, eyes blurred and sobbing quietly and hopelessly.
She remained this way for she knew not how long, unable to go on.
Then, realizing that she dared not delay lest some other fierce
creature should happen to pass by and take notice of her activities,
she endeavored to continue. Her fingers trembling and shaking with
grief, she sewed together the two sides of the tent flap that met over
his criss-crossed forearms and waist, creating a crude shroud for the
man's body.
Somberly, she regarded the battered face within the shroud with a
terrible sense of foreboding. She was no longer able to obtain spices
so freely as she once might have done in the spice tent of Master
Rababull, in order to properly prepare the body for burial.
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