and the heat like a barber 's warm rag upon my face , and the smoke a speckled curtain of gray and black , and the stench of organic burning things , rotten food and moldy bread , and underlying it the foul muck of marrow sizzling within bone and the acrid tincture of hair smoldering , and i knew , i knew before i looked , before i kicked the first barrel over , spilling the contents of its gullet onto the damp , hard-packed earth , i knew what i would find , knew to the core of my harsh , cold , merciless self what he had done and to whom he had done it , apple-cheeked , fair-skinned , ready smile , and you bastard , you bastard , what have you done ?