Mike took a deep breath, feeling some tension and unease.
He paced nervously to the balcony, leaned on the railing to take a look outside, extended his right hand and put up his thumb to roughly gauge the distance, then withdrew back into the room.
"The rain is getting heavier."
He couldn't help but complain in a low voice to his companion, "What if we can't light it when the time comes?"
"Impossible, these are arrows soaked in black fire. Rain can't extinguish them."
His companion shook his head, carefully separated the four arrows that were inserted in the quiver, and then inserted them back into place.
Black fire was highly adhesive. Performing this task periodically was exactly to prevent them from sticking together and accidentally igniting upon retrieval.
Mike sighed and sat on the bed: "I'm not worried about the black fire being put out by the rain. I'm worried that if the rain gets any heavier, I won't be able to see where that barrel is..."
