She makes a stuttering sound, as if testing out her voice rather than trying to produce words. She's shaking, staring at this horror that has visited upon her, staring at it dead. Knowing that whatever it's woken in her mind won't sleep.

And yet it's just a body. It's locked in the cage of memory, barred by time's steel restraints and cuffs, a past tense beast. She can run into the future, into the rest of her life, and it can't follow her.

Some things can't help but be left in the past, and thank God for that.

She reaches over and takes Guy's hand.

"I think- I think we should bury it. It deserves to be buried." Not because it's good or should be treated like a human, but because it should be returned to the worms and damp soil that are its kin.