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The summer cold wind played with the dead leaves, causing them to dance.

Hours passed, but finally, someone decided to bury the bones of the great warrior Herongrath.

The mighty bones of the four-armed hero lay in the middle of the makeshift tent where the body was resting.

The funeral would be held in three hours.

Most of the honored guests had already arrived in the camp. Some of the headmen of the camp's tribes in the region. And many other tribes in the region. They all came to honor the fallen hero.

Pravuil, Herongrath's brother, prided himself in his accomplishments when he was alive. But now, he was completely focused on the preparations for the funeral.

There were so many people here to honor the hero. Pravuil knew that his brother would be very happy if he could see the tribes of the region coming to honor his remains of what used to be his mighty body.

The camp bustled with activity. Hunters had just arrived with the food for the evening banquet, and they laid it on the table on the south side of the tent, on the other side of the table where Herongrath's remains were resting on.

"It is time", Pravuil turned to the two massive warriors standing on each side of the tent. The two looked at each other and nodded, but didn't move from their positions, instead, they looked at Pravuil for further instructions. Pravuil waved his hand in a downward motion, and the warriors immediately moved aside to let him out. They knew that he is going to prepare himself for the funeral.

It didn't take long for him to finish his preparations.

He came out of the tent. The two warriors finished their positions in a quick motion and got in a line formation in front of Pravuil. A third warrior walked in front of the formation and carried Herongrath's skull.

Everyone in the camp was silent when Pravuil came out from the tent.

The camp was completely silent when Pravuil came out from the tent. He walked in a straight line to a huge boulder in the center of the camp, the same rock where the tribe leader, Pravuil's father, Cromik, often held his ceremonies.

Herongrath's skull was put in front of the rock, in a hole that the headman of the blademasters in the tribe, Tori, had prepared.

Everyone was in a stationary position in the camp, in a circular formation around the rock. There were about ten thousand people here to honor the hero.

A middle aged man stood on a raised platform on a raised platform, handed a stick to Pravuil. The stick was a simple one, it had a staff of a normal blademaster. The middle aged man looked at Pravuil with an eager expression.

Pravuil took the stick and nodded, not a word. He walked around the stone, and got on a large mushroom made out of a bone.

There were some sheeps on the big mushroom. A few cow's horns were also on the mushroom, tied together with a long rope as a symbol of a warrior.

Pravuil sat on the creature, with his hands cross on his legs, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.

Most of the warriors in the camp were nodding off, for they all wanted to be rested for the evening banquet.

Herongrath's skull was in front of the rock, on the wooden beam. It was shining in the sunlight brilliantly. It shone even in the moonlight. It was shining in the sunlight brilliantly. It shone even in the moonlight.

The skull was carefully polished by Tori, the headman of the blademasters in the tribe.

It was polished by the master blademaster Sharal. It was polished by the master blademaster Sharal.

There was a group of elders gathered around the skull, wearing the headman's or warchief's old-fashioned red garments. They were very old, but they still wore the regalia, for it was the tradition in their tribe. The elders did not have any physical presence, they did not have faces. All the elders did was to talk.

"The bonelight beams are flickering. We sense that the negative powers are getting expelled into the very earth. We are very fortunate that Herongrath's spirit remains intact, perhaps for this one last time.