The interrogation lasted the entire night.
The natives were called one by one, returning in a daze, sitting blankly on the wooden boards as if their souls had been extracted.
Werner waited anxiously, observing the expressions of these people, hoping to glean some information in advance.
But without being able to communicate verbally, he couldn't understand anything, so he could only sit on the boards and await his fate obediently—
Among all the captives, he was the last in line.
...
Finally, the long agony came to an end as Sunday's finger pointed at Werner.
Like all the previous natives, Werner followed behind Saturday, leaving the campfire and heading up the slope.
The sky was just beginning to lighten, with the thin morning light accompanied by the unextinguished lamps from the watchtower illuminating the path to the platform.
