"Lord knows a great many people have tried," Doc mutters with a sad little laugh. It's a little sad really that for all the wild encounters that he had survived, it would be tuberculosis that would have put him down in the end. If there was a sad, angry, bitter little man upstairs then he did have a sense of humour at least.

"The power went out," Doc explains. He'll come around to explaining the other details later. It is too early to be putting on a grandiose talk about the past two days, and he probably would wait until they had a bigger audience so he didn't need to repeat himself.

It takes three broken matches to get the fire started but once it's lit he pokes at it to get the bigger pieces of wood to catch on. One look at their stockpile of salvaged wood and it's fairly obvious that they will be needing an axe to get through the winter, but that is another worry for another time when they're a little less sluggish and a little less spooked.

"Are you alright, Raylan?" Doc casts a sidelong glance over towards him. He's just tired, himself, and it feels like the kind of tired you get when you've had too much rest, but not hung over like Raylan is.