Tris has been told that death isn't permanent here. It's one thing to be told that, and quite another to find Horatio's corpse in the middle of a corridor. She can't leave him there. Couldn't leave him even if he were gone for good. Dragging him with her arms beneath his shoulders, she doesn't make it far. Tris briefly considers calling someone for help moving him before some combination of pride and not knowing who she ought to ask (Francesco perhaps, or Erskine) has her undoing a couple braids, carefully sliding a disc of air under him, and using winds to lift and carry him toward her own cabin. She doesn't know him well enough to take Horatio to his own.

Her new strategy doesn't work nearly as well outside the close confines of a tower, and she's burned through several more braids by the time she actually gets him to her cabin. She's running low on energy. Tris eyes the staircase, eyes the sofa, and looks again at how tall Horatio is. She can sleep on the sofa if he's here for any length of time. More than a head shorter, she'll fit there better. She manages to get him upstairs and into her bed.

Then she sits. Wonders how long it takes. The unsettling thought occurs to her that people might not always wake up. What if she just put Horatio's body in her bed and he stays dead?