At her companion's call, the woman halted, turning her head back towards the voice. She let out a small huff from her nostrils—out of frustration, perhaps, or from the uphill climb. The austere stoicism that was etched over her visage made it comically difficult to tell.

Faeline's eyes were well accustomed to the brume, unfortunately in her eyes. She could make out the faint contours of his silhouette without much issue, watching him clamber up the slope. Well done, you managed to stand up. She snarked, looking over him once more for any glaringly obvious injuries of some sort. No, it seemed like Rhydian was just slow.

Faeline offered a few backward glances to make sure Rhydian could keep up the pace as she resumed her stiff march over the deep snow. She held her thick tail above the ground, both in an act of debonaire ease and from wishing to avoid dragging her thick coat over the accumulation of frost. Dealing with clumps of snow gathering on her pelt and tail was annoying, and that was just about the last thing Faeline needed.

Eventually, she slowed to a halt, scanning over the landscape with narrowed eyes. I've not the foggiest where we are. She mumbled softly, squinting against boisterous winds and thick haze of fog.