They walked over the dead line heedlessly, forgetting why it came to be there.

Cabin fever no longer tormented them with its magnifying of little things.

They had no time or thought for trifles; a bigger matter than their own petty prejudices concerned them.

They were fighting side by side, with the Old Man of the Scythe--the Old Man who spares not.
Lovin Child was pulling farther and farther away from them.

They knew it, they felt it in his hot little hands, they read it in his fever-bright eyes.