Oh - there they were! Again, the winds swept around their fur as they followed and followed and followed. He was determined enough to crawl and scrape and dig. And despite her reservations, she to found herself at the crux too. Both fought valiantly, clawing at the ice, scraping and scrambling about. The rune was pulsing in time, and each little chip of the ice almost sounded like a note as they bounced against the ice and stone. It swelled as they worked in tandem, a staccato, with the pulsing of the rune serving as the metronome.
Thump, thump, thump ~ tink, creak, groan, CRACK.~
The process continued, and every little bit of ice they worked away seemed to only make it louder - until cracks began to form in the ice wall. It spread along the floor and ceiling, reaching in towards the runes. It was as if the cracks were racing the efforts of Northfall. Larger cracks gave way, the ice seeming to tremble with the efforts of holding everything together. Larger cracks opened, shards falling even from the ceiling.
The risk was so great - but so was the reward.
The rune slipped, it was almost free, just a bit more - but which would they choose? To stay and get the rune, or would they just flee before they were hurt?