Mormon was one of the only survivors of the big, terrible, Nephite-ending battle. His city was destroyed and he wept for the roads and the buildings. His dog and his horse were killed, and he wept for the animals. His friends and his soldiers were killed and he wept for them because he could remember how beautiful they had been when they were still living. But most of all he wept for his family, his wife who had been taken away and his son who was now one of the unknown bodies lying lifeless on the ground. 

Everything he had ever loved or cared for was gone. His own body was injured and he could feel it slipping out from under him. He was old already. The world was not what he wanted it to be. He was ready to die. And so he sat on the ground and waited for the Lamanites to come and find him.  

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