Dogman and Dow, Tul and Grim, West and Pike. Six of them, stood in a circle and looking down at two piles of cold earth. Below in the valley, the Union were busy burying their own dead, Dogman had seen it. Hundreds of 'em, in pits for a dozen each. It was a bad day for men, all in all, and a good one for the ground. Always the way, after a battle. Only the ground wins.

Shivers and his Carls were just through the trees, heads bowed, burying their own. Twelve in the earth already, three more wounded bad enough they'd most likely follow before the week was out, and another that'd lost his hand—might live, might not, depending on his luck. Luck hadn't been good lately. Near half their number dead in one day's work. Brave of 'em to stick after that. Dogman could hear their words. Sad words and proud, for the fallen. How they'd been good men, how they'd fought well, how bad they'd be missed and all the rest. Always the way, after a battle. Words for the dead.

Dogman swallowed and looked back to the fresh turned dirt at his feet. Tough work digging, in the cold, ground frozen hard. Still, you're better off digging than getting buried, Logen would've said, and the Dogman reckoned that was right enough. Two people he'd just finished burying, and two parts of himself along with 'em. Cathil deep down under the piled-up dirt, stretched out white and cold and would never be warm again. Threetrees not far from her, his broken shield across his knees and his sword in his fist. Two sets of hopes Dogman had put in the mud—some hopes for the future, and some hopes from the past. All done now, and would never come to nothing, and they left an aching hole in him. Always the way, after a battle. Hopes in the mud.

'Buried where they died,' said Tul softly. 'That's fitting. That's good.'

'Good?' barked Dow, glaring over at West. 'Good, is it? Safest place in the whole battle? Safest place, did you tell 'em?' West swallowed and looked down, guilty seeming.

'Alright, Dow,' said Tul. 'You know better than to blame him for this, or anyone else. It's a battle. Folk die. Threetrees knew that well enough, none better.'

'We could've been somewhere else,' growled Dow.

'We could've been,' said Dogman, 'but we weren't, and there it is. No changing it, is there? Threetrees is dead, and the girl's dead, and that's hard enough for everyone. Don't need you adding to the burden.'

Dow's fists bunched up and he took a deep breath in like he was about to shout something. Then he let it out, and his shoulders sagged, and his head fell. 'You're right. Nothing to be done, now.'