Not all had left the battlefield in sound state. Even as the company collected itself Bróin found Vara lying at the spur of a tree, wounded; though only a graze against her breast, the fierceness of orc weaponry made it an altogether deep graze. The wound had not dampened Vara's spirit at least, as obscenity and insult against their slain foes poured out of her beak.
With his companion in no state to fly at the moment, Bróin placed her in one of the larger pockets of his coat for the time being and fed her what crumbs and rations he could spare. Not the most noble of abodes for a daughter of Ravenhill, but Bróin had made his point rather insistently. With that the Dwarf helped move the orc bodies into the bog before continuing onward with the company.
After another night besieged by nightmares, Bróin tooks his breakfast with the others. "Indeed, though not near as bad. Perhaps we grow inured to this Shadow?" Bróin eats only half his breakfast, giving the rest to Vara.
Finally, the company began to brave the marshes around Fenbridge. Progress was slow but uneventful for much of their journey... until the grasping hands mentioned by Radagast make their move. Worse, the undead forms attached to those hands begin to rise as well...