The clamorous complaints died down at those words. If they continued to march now, when would it ever end? Even if the livestock could endure it, the people certainly could not.
The surroundings were completely barren. To survive the night, the able-bodied men from each household had to venture further out to gather firewood.
In this wind-swept wasteland, everyone shivered violently from the cold. Even after they finally managed to start fires, it barely helped. This was when the tarpaulins they had purchased earlier proved their worth. By draping them against the carriages, they created small, windproof havens.
"Seriously, it wouldn't have mattered if we rested a little later. They just had to pick this godforsaken place. The wind sounds like ghosts howling."
"Could you not say that?" The more timid individuals felt a chill run down their spines at the mention of ghosts, their backs growing even colder.
