It was night...
A howling gale swept through the mountains. In a canyon, the marching party slowly came to a halt.
Silvery moonlight poured down from one side of the canyon, stretching all the way to the vast, dark swamp.
"Phew..."
Falan looked up at the sky, then turned to the others and said:
"Everyone, take a rest!"
Crackle...
Splash!
Piles of firewood were tossed onto the ground, stirring up a breeze as the flames flickered...
Sparks burst from the tops of the flames and drifted high into the air with the wind.
Clap, clap!
"Phew... This should do, right?"
Enrique clapped his hands, rolled his shoulders, and turned to his guild leader.
"Mhm. Thanks for the effort."
Falan answered casually, a thin twig between his teeth, while waving a hand.
Crack!
He picked up a piece of firewood and tossed it into the blazing campfire.
Falan turned the meat in his hand a few times, leisurely brushing it with seasoning.
"That smells great. Molly's seasoning..."
Enrique sniffed appreciatively, then found a place and sat down.
"Yeah, this makes the roasted meat taste so much better."
Falan nodded in agreement.
After speaking, he smacked his lips, still savoring the taste, and glanced toward the earthen wall standing in the distance.
"I wonder if little Molly brought any alcohol?"
Falan raised a hand and made a drinking gesture, his face full of longing.
"...I really want a drink!"
"No drinking during missions. Wasn't that your rule, Guild Leader?"
Enrique clasped his hands behind his head, turned around, and looked at Falan with exasperation.
"You little brat, of course I know that!"
Falan glared at Enrique, then reluctantly lowered his hand and continued turning the meat.
"But when you think about it, we're almost on our way back."
Enrique looked up