Ekimu stays up late that night, slowly and methodically cleaning up the mess The Collected had made of his Forge. He returns things to their place when possible, tools hung on the wall and raw material tucked away in bins and storage closets. Of the rest, two piles are formed. The first is of scrap; tools broken by use and material too small to be used again. The second pile is of a far different nature - the work of The Collected. These he handles with great care, gathering them in a loose pile in the back of the room. Once the Mask Maker is satisfied with his work he turns in for the night, falling into a dreamless sleep.
He wakes up before the dawn the next morning, rested enough to continue his work. He lights his Forge, and in the pre-dawn light begins to assess that which The Collected had left behind. (@KAI_BORG)
The jungle is quiet. The only sound as he works his way south to the ruins is the rustle of underbrush as he hacks his way through them. He neither sees nor hears any sign of another soul, be it beast or Okotan. The sun slowly sinks through the sky, until the trees are bathed in the orange glow of sunset.
There's a noise off to his right, a rustle of underbrush. An Okotan stands there, silhouetted by the dying sun. One tip of their mask is broken off, and twin sheathed swords form an X at their hips. The stranger stands there for a moment, silent. The next moment they turn into the underbrush, gone.