Sonia tromps back gleefully, about to announce her return, and she sees Byerly slumped against the rock, the look of a man trapped in a nightmare on his face. She all but drops the bottle and kneels before him, placing a gentle hand on his neck. This isn't all just self-pity -- if this is what he looks like when he's asleep, the man must be truly lost. Sonia bites her lip.

"Byerly," she says, not quite shaking him, trying to wake him as gently as possible and get him out of the grips of whatever dream he's having. "Byerly, it's me."