It was a lot colder once we got into the mountains.
We’ve already lost access to the stretch of water behind us, so it’s a total guess as to whether or not we’ll actually get the right supplies, or if we’ll have to wait for some daring old lunatic to dash through the wasteland that surrounds us to the South. I imagine him drunk and distasteful and stinking like dried-out fish, and if we saw him we’d all be glad, but he never arrives.