Night settled heavily across the mountain.
The rebuilding had not stopped when the sun dipped below the jagged western peaks. Even after the exhaustion of the funeral, even after the collective weight of the grief had settled into everyone's bones, the camp kept moving. People walked through the ruined, blackened sections of the camp carrying salvaged timber, hammering mismatched boards over holes in the remaining structures, and distributing the few dry blankets and thin portions of broth they had left under the freezing dark. Survival did not pause for mourning. If they stopped moving to cry, the frost would take them before the tears could dry on their cheeks.
