Silently, Zechariah leaned several wooden and metal pieces against the gate door, piling them up into a crude memorial. One by one, he leaned the pieces against one another. Though the arrangement was random, its meaning was clear.
"Ahlund was a Ru'Onora," said Zechariah, and though his voice was but a whisper, the tunnel amplified his words to rich volumes. "We cannot lay his body to rest, but Ru'Onorath tradition gives the utmost honor to heroes who die nobly in combat."
He retrieved two sacks from the saddlebags of his steed and returned to the door.
"Today, Ahlund sacrificed himself to save the lives of others, and there is no deed nobler than that. And so, we offer provisions for his journey." Zechariah opened the sacks. "Salt, to flavor the meat of his game." He scooped a handful
