Night was both welcomed and...not so much!
Welcomed, because Faolán was exhausted and his feet were throbbing something awful. He couldn't wait to sit down, strip his boots off, and get his toes some air! But first, he had to set up their tent, which he managed well enough. The wind made it tricky, blowing the canvas from his hands and making it flap around, but before long he had the posts dug into the ground and the canvas secured, roughly around the same time that Killian got a fire going.
Tiredly, Faolán trudged over to the fire and plopped onto his bottom next to Killian, and he wasted no time in stripping off his boots, wiggling his toes happily, and warming his feet by the fire.
Following Killian's example, he dug out a roll, wrinkled his nose at it, and took a nibble. Blech. This wasn't going to go down easy. It was dry enough to suck away all the moisture in his mouth, like eating sand. Making a face, he swallowed it down and looked at Killian.
"Well, we got a fire...guess we could always try hunting?" He shrugged, glanced around the area. "Maybe not tonight but um...I sorta know how to make snares! Could maybe catch some breakfast and--"
The wind picked up then, howling ominously through the trees and sending a low branch scraping over the top of their tent. With a yelp of surprise, Faolán jumped and scrambled closer to Killian until their shoulders were touching. Then his cheeks reddened and, looking at Killian, he scooted away a bit.
"Er...sorry...heh. That was just the wind, yeah? Just the wind..."