The early spring nights are still quite cold, and there is a great press of bodies around the spluttering fire. Unfortunately, the only dry wood available is reserved for construction of the bridge, so the night fire is more smoke than flame. You get what sleep you can nonetheless.

Dawn finds you in a shroud of chill mist. You see a few points of light where other fires are trying their best at devouring the damp wood, but most of the world is nothing but a darker silhouette in the omnipresent greyness.