They past a pair of buffalo, trapped forever at mid-charge, great shaggy heads lowered, horns gleaming dully in the uncertain light. Wyatt could almost hear the thunder of their stride, feel it again in his chest as they raced with him to the cliff's edge.

"They call it a punishment," he said, reaching out to touch the glass - almost curiously - rubbing the grit that came away between his fingers. "There was a war some time back, between the Capitol an' the Districts. The Districts lost an' to make sure they remembered, the Capitol took their kids an' made 'em do this."

Wiping his hand on his increasingly grimy pants, he turned back to Joel.

"'Cept they never brought kids back."