"Try some of this," says Drazha, passing you a wooden bowl filled with some sort of gruel. "Eel stew. It's better than you think."
You wave it away and stare into the fire that burns in the hearth of the bunkhouse. The mist has turned into rain, which now pounds on the inn's roof. "I feel bad for the rest of the tribespeople," you tell her. "I've led them to this wretched place, and now they're having to camp outside in the rain."
"We could use something to raise morale," agrees Drazha. "What do you want to do?"