"Thanks; I'll replace this soon," Lorne says, taking the burlap sack. If Lorne is going to carry a severed head around the village, he's at least going to cover the damn thing. And he's sure Kit won't want the sack returned after it's used for this purpose.

"Not sure, it's facing down. I'll have to pull it out." To avoid adding to the damage the griffon already caused, Lorne clears the remaining snow by hand. His sleeves and gloves will take the worst of the staining, but most of that ought to come out with prompt washing. Actually touching the remains is enough to make his stomach twist uncomfortably but he ignores the reaction, lifting the head from the snow.

Although bloodied and mangled, some features are undeniably recognizable. "...Blond hair. Damn. Looks like Sir Theobald." He puts the head into the sack as gently as he can manage and extricates himself from the snowbank, then looks to the mountaintop. "If anyone in his retinue is still alive, they're likely trapped up there by the snowfall."