Sorting was easy with the light on, much faster when everything was heaped together in a pile. All that was left to do was to take pieces from the middle pile and throw. Leave the smallest pieces for kindling and the biggest pieces for firewood. And maybe save that one that snapped like a stake for anything that might attack them down in the tunnels.

A piece of wood comes flying out the trapdoor when they open it at a speed that an expert knifethrower can muster, nearly taking their eyes out as it hits the ceiling and leaves a faint mark before clattering to the floor.

"...shit," came a voice from down the shaft. Did Doc just take the help out?