Ends of The Earth by Mary Gaunt — Read

-"Done!" The two men looked at one another blankly. "Done!"

It was twilight, and the night was coming, though it was only seven o'clock. The sky was heavy and lowering, with a promise of snow in it; the wind cutting and chill; behind them the rock rose up sheltering a little, and before them the fire blazed and danced, sending up every now and then a shower of sparks as the logs burned and rolled against each other. Fire was the only cheery, comfortable thing they had found in all the wilds of Labrador.