"Mmm, yes. Though if it's deep mushrooms the smoke would kill us," Andra muses, a smirk touching her lips. She hands the wineskin back to Sera, taking a moment to pull her hair free of the clip holding it up, shaking it out in an attempt to facilitate some attempt of letting it dry.

Then she sets to pawing through her satchel in the vain hope that she'd packed something that could be burned.

"I'm never listening when they say it'll be a quick trek down the mountain ever again. Next time I bring a bloody packhorse."