He watched a brilliant mind fail, blaming his own inadequacies on some days, the unbending madness of those conducting that farce of a trail on others. Worst were the days on which he blamed the captain himself.
It was a horror that crept upon him in the night. Helping the boy has eased it somewhere, as has the ascent of Sawyer into the peace he so needed and deserved.
But this – the young man with his head bowed, staring at his hands in his lap, his face pinched tight and pale...
He fears how this image will wend itself into his dreaming mind.