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I felt his sorrow, deeper than human feeling and yet not strange, like a familiar color somehow darker than the human eye could perceive. Always we were turning from the path, turning against him. He felt our every pain, witnessed our every torment, experienced every injury as though it were his own. Still, he would not stop us, for to stop us would be to destroy the very thing that made us what we are. And feeling that pain, I understood the why at last. He suffered to see our suffering, and so our suffering made us more like him, who knew our every hurt.