Camp note

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I don’t like this one bit. Mountain’s grumbling like a rockslide’s coming. We should turn back. I keep saying it, but Nicu keeps pushing and pushing, saying we have to go, we have to leave.

Well, I’d rather live in Sangora than die trying to get out. It’s not that bad. It really isn’t. But I can’t bloody let my brother go alone.

I wish I could be a bastard and just leave him. Oh, do I ever.

But maybe we’ll be fine. We’ll soon laugh it all off over a pint somewhere on the other side.