"This was the Reverend’s fate for . . . how long? There was no telling. It was always twilight. He was never hungry, though a little cold and thirsty, but always so terribly tired. The wigwams, blankets, and corpses were always smoldering. Would their smoke rise forever?"

A beautiful line. There is a haunting that is reminiscent of Dante and Lewis in his stuck, lonely, thirsty experience.