"I'm sorry," Ylva says, twisting her hands together nervously. "He escaped..." In Inric's lap, the bookwyrm kit is holding very still under Copper's glare. There is an amusing parallel to the situation. Inric relinquishes the kit to its father, who picks it up by the scruff of its neck and prepares to jump down. Ylva wanders a little way down the path, looking at the grave stones scattered over the uneven grassy ground. "Is this..." "It is a burial ground," Inric says, easing himself off the shelf he'd been sitting on. "It's very peaceful."