He shivered as they took him to his executioners. His hands were tied behind his back. The men who led him were not rough, they did not take pleasure in his punishment. The night was warm, and quiet as if listening to his thoughts. His thoughts were what made him shiver. He was wondering if his death would be worth it, if the revolution would succeed or if the state would win in the end, if the people would believe him to be a hero who died for them or a traitor who died for some sinister agenda; he knew it was what people did with his death that would determine whether his death was worth it or not; and not knowing what they would do, he shivered until he was dead.
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