Father always told me that when you die your body becomes the grass... But, my dearest Aina, it doesn't seem to be the case here. For when I heard of your death I came as soon as I could. Unfortunately it took a week for me to be able to stow away from that blasted rock my father imprisons me in. When I came to mourn at your resting ground I did not find grass... I found bones, rotting flesh, and maggots. Hundreds of maggots turning your once beautiful form into dirt... Dirt that will offer no fertility to grass. Dirt that will scatter with the wind...

And so I correct my fathers amendment.

When you die your body rots at the mouths of maggots, only to be blown away into the wind and forgotten forever...

(It's supposed to be left over bits of flesh and maggots in his paw.)