Dejah takes a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment, and nodding. This is going to be a long night.

She opens the back door and winces as the wind almost tears it from her hands. Stinging knives of cold bite at her face and she scrambles to get her goggles pulled down and the scarves pulled up over her nose. She holds the door firm against the side of the building so the others can follow.

"Woola. Stay close."

The calot chuffs his assent. The cold doesn't seem to bother him, but he is squinting against the wind.