The fissure in the rock extends back about twenty yards, just enough for you and Drazha to bring your horses into the shelter while still leaving room for yourselves. Despite the downpour from outside, your shelter is surprisingly dry, sheltered from both the wind and the rain, and before long, you have built a fire out of the small amount of dry wood you carried with you. Drazha returns, carrying some damp wood cut from the gorse bushes outside the entrance to the cave. She sets them down by the fire to dry, then spreads her cloak on the ground and sits down.
Even in the cave, even with the fire, it's still bitterly cold, and you find yourself sitting close to Drazha as the wind whistles outside.
"The Great Steppe seems a long way from here, doesn't it?" says Drazha, staring out at the rain. "I know we had to leave, but it was my home. And I know it's impossible, but I often find myself wishing that we could just go back. Don't you?"