Perdante turned the gift over in her hands three times, and then bowed before The Frail. "I will treasure this always," she said, "and I will always remember you, if we do not meet again. Farewell, and may fortune guide your steps." She cast one last look at the darkspawn and then turned to leave, letting the moon guide her way on the path that led away from the remains of the camp and the carnage. The sickening scent of what had happened earlier in the day was still there, although a bit muted. Faded, like a nightmare in the back of your mind once you'd awakened from sleep.
Fatigue overtook the Orlesian, and as soon as she found a nearby tree, she let her weight sag upon it and curled up underneath. In two minutes, she snored soundly. It had been a long, exhausting, and disgusting day, although not bad, all things considered!