"Doesn't matter." she said, throwing the sticks that she had collected in the centre of the improvised camp. "Help me make the fire."
The improvised camp was right on the edge of the mountain, making it pretty small and narrow. On the other side of the ravene there was another, much taller mountain. Except for the light provided by the moon and the stars, everything was dark. The powerful wind of the mountain was hitting their faces like a barrage of knifes. Except for the spot where Streke was, which was the furthest of the edge of the ravene, the members of the group would have to be placed pretty much in a line, to be sure that none fell into the pit.