[ As Ilsa speaks, Hector keeps digging into the dirt, until he gets a decently-deep little pit carved out of the earth. He hums in agreement as he stakes the stick back into the ground nearby and moves to gather the dried sticks and leaves. ]

You and me both. Probably safer we stay here until it passes. Hopefully it won't be long.

[ He dumps the pile into the hole and kneels by it, contemplating the dead foliage before looking up at Ilsa again. ]

You all right? Not too cold or wet?