At first, Iestyn thought it was a trap. And then slowly, hesitantly, he started to believe. He didn't speak because he'd kind of forgotten how to interact with other people. (Henry didn't count. He was a ghost, silly.) He let Patrick guide him out, let his father wrap him in a blanket, saw Nick gathering up his son's remains and stowing them away in a box. There would be a funeral for Henry later, but Iestyn didn't go. There were too many people and it scared him.
The late afternoon sun at least wasn't excessively bright, but Iestyn still squinted and covered his face, the fresh air making him cough. Existing where that smell did not was- it was overwhelming. When he at last laid eyes on his sister, that was when he started to cry. He'd been crying for so long now, it seemed like the natural response. He didn't know how he looked to her, all unshaven and filthy and wild-eyed, but he did know she didn't shy away from it. Iestyn was finally free, although he would live with the aftermath for the rest of his life.