As near to the next morning as could be estimated in the perpetual twilight's slow crawl towards night, the three women left their cozy cave camp to find the wind had died down.
"I say we start in the middle," Darlae proposed.
"This would be much easier if we find the nest," Brigit countered. "Less likely we'll fall into a breathing hole."
"Breathing hole?" Amarena's imagination ran away with thoughts of falling into the maw of some enormous beast.
"Joermagrs get called serpents, but they're really mammals. They still need to come up for air," Brigit explained.
"You're sure about that?" Rena asked.
"Of course I am. Which is why I don't want us wandering out there where the snow might have covered up some holes."
"Your vote then," Darlae said to Rena. "It's your sword, so what do you want to do?"