The group overnight, recovering from the scrum with the cursed revenant. Their sleep is fragmented, their bodies and gear cold and wet. Shifty huddles deeper into his threadbare cloak, shivering because no fire could be kindled in the damp wood. Sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, dark circles rimming his eyes, is Ratrick, who sits staring into space with hollow eyes. The wet has seeped into their bones, making every movement a discomfort.