The passage between Polaris and Ursa was short, but it was not sweet. Blistering winds from Ursa, whipping the eyes and ears, grating the teeth. Icy walls, a valley in the middle collecting puddles of snow; lots of places to slip. Hold on to your extremities. The frost tends to bite. Quite a marvel they were once able to shut this entrance down. Not that Audland knew.

Speaking of Audland, he's not able to come to the phone right now. A combination of Saran'zol's lasting curse and a depth of hunger welling within was taking the sensibility right out of his head. He'd chased a tunnel runner into this treacherous tunnel—a tunnel so tight Audland usually had to press against one side to get through it—and, predictably, the dang thing had gotten away. Well, enjoy becoming Order's next host, stupid deer.

So Audland pressed himself against some wall, and tried to enshroud himself with darkness.