His eyes became heavier and heavier, and then he slept. I
got up and put out the lantern, and was covered by foggy
twilight. The rest were already asleep, but I couldn't calm
my nerves, so I walked slowly into the gloom. After a few
steps, all that was left of the world was the cold ground
and the haze of the moon.

I reached the shore of the lake. I could not see it, but I
could hear the splash, could feel the icy, still air. I
unsheathed my dagger and threw it into the water. I did the
same with my sword, though I hesitated for a moment. It
swallowed so much of me with every life it took. Somehow, I
thought I could get it all back, by sucking it out of the
old steel. Perhaps, but it is too late now. It rusts now at
the bottom of the Lake of the Headless.

I walked back, and lay myself down with the others. I
covered my head in the old gray blanket, but did not sleep.
We did horrible things, but I never cried nor asked for
forgiveness. The fog muffled the screams of the wounded, and
the moon lit the pale eyes of the dead.