Damn. It's all he can think as the battle ends, swift and brutal. His logical mind said that what had transpired was a mercy, and a necessary thing. He was not so naive as to think that everyone could be saved; knew that the hard decisions had to be made and were more often than not forced.

Even so, his stomach turned at the sight of the broken child. But he would not look away. He could not. He needed to remember this sight, to remind himself how harsh this world was, and so that his child was not forgotten. It was selfish, most likely, but at least no one could judge him for what he did not voice.

Slowly he ran a hand through his hair, trying to push away in his inherent emotional reaction, summon the rational captain. It was over, but they were not yet done.

"I'll go find something to cover him," he said, remembering the covering on the wagon. They could move him with that, give him a tiny shard of compassion even though it was to late.