Chapter 4

You're not looking, Roland.
What do you mean? Of course I'm look-
Well, all right, maybe you are. But you're not seeing what you should be seeing.
You sound like an idiot. Now talk so so I can actually understand you.
Take his shirt off.
What? Why?
Just do it.
The look on Roland's face, as he reached out a slightly shaking hand, might well have been the same if Will had just told him to pick up a poisonous snake. He had just gripped the hem of the boys shirt with the tips of his fingers when the boy moaned and twitched slightly. Roland jerked his hand back as though it had been burned. Will let out a little scream of frustration and stripped the boy's shirt off himself.
There. You see? He's not going to hurt you!
Roland stared. The boy's back was a mass of blood and whip marks. He felt his stomach heave and jerked around so Will wouldn't have to watch him be sick. When he was done, he turned around slowly and was carful to look at the ground, not the boy.
No wonder he hit me, he muttered hollowly.
You didn't know.
I should have figured it out. This was my fault.
Even if you hadn't gotten angry at him, he would have gotten beaten for being late or something like that.
It was still my fault.
I'm probably wasting my breath telling you not blame yourself aren't I?
Roland glanced up at Will and saw a comforting and sympathetic expression on his face, but quickly glanced away. As good a friend as Will was, he could never understand how guilty he felt right at that moment. He felt guilt for spending the first years of his life with a kind family, guilt for being fed well even as the debts started piling up, guilt for being such a burden to his parents, guilt for getting angry enough at a stupid insult to send the insulter to fate like this.

Al right, but before you beat yourself up any more, I'm going to remind you that it was me who actually told that hideous cook what happened.
Let's get him to our camp, Roland said, not acknowledging to the remark but feeling grateful for it just the same.
Will bent his knees, cautiously reached under the boy's arms and hoisted him over his shoulder, wrapping a strong arm around his waist. The boy made no sound or movement. He seemed to have exhausted himself to the point that he really couldn't have struggled even if he'd wanted to. He just wrapped a thin arm around Will's neck and let him carry him back to camp. Roland brought up the rear, the shirt tucked under his arm.