and I've only got my brittle bones to break the fall
It's looking uncannily much like a house now. Seems a shame to burn it down, but some things exist just to be destroyed. He listens in thoughtful silence, fingers linked together and head slightly bowed. Simple, but believable. What about their sense of smell? Would leaving the Molotovs in there put them off from coming in? It's not your standard household item. Better stash them in surrounding ruins. "I'll make the flaming flasks before LongNight," he decides, "and stash them in the surrounding ruins."He's not sure about lining a house that's supposed to be lived in with hay, but supposes it might do some to isolate against the cold—or would, if you stacked it to the ceiling.
They don't have enough to stack it to the ceiling.
So instead he does bits and bobs. Helps Wessex stuff some snowmoss around doorframes and under floorboards, places in some bales of hay where it seems it might get drafty, and places one (carefully lidded) jug of oil indoors. It might be nice fuel if it gets smashed.
Aamu does a bit of this and that, helping with snowmoss, putting in some hay and a jug of oil
Aamu
