"I'll hurry back and take up watch so you guys can get some fresh clothes," he says, understanding the impulse, if not the impetus. "And if I see anyone else, I'll send them out first."

Not that he does; as he passes between the inn and adjacent housing, the buildings are silent save a creaking that could just as easily be the trees. Wood in the thaw, a sound he's only just learning in this place. If he wasn't used to pushing past the sense that he shouldn't be out alone, he'd walk back and at least bring Nerys.

The house is much the same, save a layer of dust. Along with his hair, it's a sign of time passing unattended--but Bodhi's tea set is on the counter, his clothing is in his room. It fits even worse than before, hanging off of him, and his journal fits in his waistband when he decides to bring it. The entries stop in the same place, the handwriting matches, and it wasn't moved from the bedside table.

When he returns, towels over one arm and his hair wrapped back in one, there's a fresh trio of faces to pull out of the fountain. After passing along towels and writing down names, he lets Ravi know: "The houses are covered in dust, but our things are all there--animals too."