He had very little remorse. As the two of you sat across from one another, enjoying the warmth of that small watchtower in the mountains, you couldn't help but bring up what happened back at Beaver Hollow. The thing you hadn't expected was the laugh that escaped him at the mention.

His lips were pulled into a sly smirk, his eyes staring into your own. "I hardly think about it anymore," his voiced cracked, and you could tell it was a lie. He was a man who got over nothing, no matter what he preached, but he would hide it from you. He always had. The man's mind was gone, a hollow shell of who he had been.