"The weaklings are no longer among us," Priest said, his voice hardening a touch. Several of their number had fallen on the hard trip to Oregon, whether from disease or fatigue, and he had given Last Rites to each of them when they could no longer go on. This new world was promising to be a trial, and those who couldn't make it would have to be sacrificed.
"Those who remain are the faithful and the hardy," he added in a more normal tone. "But we can speak further of them when we get out of this rain. Is the weather always this wet in the fall?"