Icy and wet: the heavens sitting heavy, swollen with death, pressing down on the tent. Wind like a wolf wildly wailing; claws ripping through the flimsy fabric. Droplets: fat and fluid and fast as lightning, a chorus of wetness plopping and sliding and streaming and soaking. Flashes like a camera outside; reverberations of warning and tears down dirt stained faces. Fear like a beast shredding bowels and throats; hiccupping into the impenetrable air. But what is life without a little exaggeration?