The ceaseless sound of the wind, the unending darkness.
The fire in the stove never goes out, and the crackling of burning wood seems to have become a background noise that will never change.
The constant, unchanging scenery blurred people's sense of time, not only for Paul and Bi Kai, but even for Chen Zhou—whose memory was sharp and adept at capturing details—he too gradually forgot how many days had passed.
No one knew exactly how cold it was outside; they only knew that even the Saw-toothed Tiger, adapted to the Ice Age environment, no longer dared to go out, seemingly terrified of the cold beyond.
...
The pine nut stew in the marching pot bubbled, steam rising from the open lid.
In the pitch-black cave, this was one of the few things that drew people's attention.
Warm food meant nourishment, meant hope for survival, meant they were still alive.
