Night had fallen again. The sky was dark as a wolf's mouth; there was no star, only the moon illuminating Death Mountain with its pale light.
The wind was blowing hard, creating little whistles around the caravan. The groups had already lit their fires for warmth, and the air was permeated with the smell of vegetable soup.
Kane and the others sat in a circle around the fire. The mountain's cold was becoming unbearable, and the drizzle formed a light layer at night.
Time passed slowly, strangely quietly. There was no attack by demonic creatures, and the moon was not tinged with blood, so the group could sleep peacefully without worry.
...
With the black sun hanging in the sky, illuminating the place with its cold light, they continued to climb the snowy mountain, enduring the harsh weather.
Everything was so quiet that it made Barak and Melissa uneasy. Kane and Rachel seemed as serene as water.