Upon entering the camp, Harold clearly saw the consequences of rebellion. Their clothes were filthy and tattered. On many, the fabric hung loosely as if it were the latest style. But their bodies told a different story. The once bulging muscles in their arms had been depleted, replaced by drooping skin folding around bone. Their faces were gaunt and scorched from the sun. Dry skin had begun to peel and blow away like wheat husks in the wind. Their faces revealed the pain they were in. Pain from hunger. Pain from strife. And yet no one turned back.