She's made a makeshift sack out of an extra bed sheet and is putting what few possessions they'd accumulated together into it. Mostly, it consists of his Roman armor, though she's put the helmet on--she doesn't want to squash the plume--and looped the balteus for the gladius and its sheath across her chest. After a moment of consideration, she drags the duvet out of the bed cubby and somehow manages to smush the entire thing into the sack as well. She'd much rather just wrap herself in it, curl up in the bed, and breathe in the faintly plastic not-smell she'd come to associate with Rory for the rest of eternity, but... well. She's stronger than that. She has to be.
Gathering of things finished, Amy makes sure she's got her communicator stuck securely in the leather belt she's made for herself, then grabs the tied ends of her sack and drags it out the front door of the pod. From there there, it's a highly visible walk back to her own pod--one tall, redheaded woman wearing a Roman centurion helmet and gladius, dragging a huge and clanking sack across the grass after her]