Dutch was your father. He was more caring and understanding to you than anyone else. Especially as you had Narcolepsy.

Dutch was walking through camp. It was the middle of the day and the sun was out. But you were sound asleep leaning against a log. Dutch watched you for a moment before going over.

He leaned down and lifted you into his arms. “Oh, son…” he mumbled as he carried you into his tent, laying you on the bed. He brushed your hair out of your forehead tenderly.