Dejah mutters a prayer under her breath and tugs her scarf back over her face. She peeks over the enclosure at a sleeping Nitwit, and feels a lump in her throat.

He's not going to die. He's already dead. How can he die again? He's just holed up somewhere safe and warm, and when they find him, he'll be surprised they were even worried.

"Right. Let's get going again." She heads to the back door and hauls it open, only to be greeted with another face full of icy knives. "Curtis!"

Woola dives back into the snow, snapping at the flurries kicked up by the wind.