"Um, are you sure we should be doing this…? This could result in—"
"Oh, please, Camila, can you just for one day stop being pessimistic?" Camila was about to ramble on with her voice of reason, but I wasn't in the mood for that. The cold, creeping in as darkness claimed the sky, made me realize things might be more complicated than we initially thought. With a chill this severe, we had to make a fire, or else most of us wouldn't survive the night.
Sure, we could always wrap ourselves in makeshift coverings to ward off the cold, but how long would that last? Plus, while we could run on the mana we had left until the next day, what would happen if we lost consciousness while sleeping and couldn't keep it going? We'd still be in trouble. After a long back-and-forth—mostly with Camila, who just wouldn't let up, claiming the fumes from the firewood would attract creatures—we finally decided to make the fire.
But then another issue arose.
