Droplets of blood turned into a puddle. A great sea of red liquid, which people fear, which people hate. Someone screamed, people ran, but it was too late. He was dead. Someone cried. No one thought. Who could it be? Who was he?
A beggar from the streets, no one more. Leave him where he lies, let the body decompose. Why waste time on a nameless warrior, who once helped, but will never more? Leave him! Don't even touch him! It's a terrible thing that he died here, out in the street, and not in some dark hole, where vermins live.
No one cares, who was he, what he has done. he is so little and unimportant. Why should anyone care? But although we humans have no feelings for the unimportant there are others who will care. The wild dogs will be satisfied enough with a meal, so good, as this.
Leave the body where it lies, let the people watch. Maybe someone fast enough will see his final role. With time we all will end like this, forgotten by everyone. Who cares? No one. Why should anyone care?