Winter does the same with his detonator, and there's a satisfying explosion all along their path out of the house, demolishing the remaining walls and bringing the whole building down in a cloud of dust and smoke. Little fires lick at the old wood here and there. Winter wouldn't be surprised if the whole forest catches.

He hopes the whole forest catches. This whole place should burn.

It's a fitting funeral pyre, the thought flits across his mind.

"We need to go," he says after a moment of watching it burn. "The woods are not safe."