The notions of cold and heat vary a lot, from one individual to another, especially when one is covered in snow. Hidden in a forest under tall conifers, holed up in the snow with just the face sticking out, all had their eyes riveted on the fortress in front of them. Sometimes, Day turned his head as much as he could, not so much, to look at the soldiers specializing in the northern terrain. These people, specially trained to stand with the lowest temperatures, to stand with moisture, and the weight of snow on their bodies. None of them trembled under their thick combat gear that could pass for climbing gear. Provided, of course, that he omitted the fact that he had a sword hanging from his back and that their grappling hook was lethal.
"What are we waiting for already, holed up like rabbits?" Toxin asked, trying hard not to move.
"We're waiting for the signal," Foud growled between his clenched teeth. "Day, are you okay?"
"It's okay. I'm not too cold."
