The storm lasted two days and nights. We managed to brave it on the first but by the second we were exhausted and after a few miles trudging through the mud Yoren collapsed.

The polite thing for Yoren would have been to just die so at least one of us could make it. Yet there he was: clinging to life like a barnacle, unable to comprehend that the universe was done with him. A sorry fate if there ever was one...

Oh you think me cold? You wouldn't understand - not unless you went through what I did. But I'm not going back through the sorry details. What's done is done... no use drudging it all up now. I often find the past is a lot like the dead, best left buried.