“I would deal with the ruble first and let the magic glyphs for later.

After all, if it’s a

trap it can put these walls down and ruin our shelter.” He says with an almost casual tone,
before turning to the bushes where Amaryllis once stood in hiding. There was enough in there
to make len-to shelter so it should suffice for making a bonfire.

Darkness was not a problem for him, he could see over a hundred feet without the help of
light, but other folk, born and bred on the surface, cold barely see as far as half this distance
while on the same conditions. Annique, being a human, wouldn’t be able to see even that far.
He wasn’t sure about Jarvis, but if leaving home had taught him something it was to prepare
for the worse. And there was the cold. Having anything ablaze would certainly help fending
off the courtesy of that cursed, everlasting winter. Damned goddesses, he thought bitterly.

Took some time, but the night elf managed to gather sticks. After that, he got a tinderbox out
of his backpack. From it he took a small piece of cloth soaked in oil and placed it over the
wood. Seizing a piece of fire steel and a flint, he hit the metal with the sharp edge of the rock,
both over the fabric. Sparks flew into the textile, turning into flames and taking hold of the
kindling. The warmth felt tender like the touch of a lover.