She rolls her eyes, but if he's going to insist, it'd be stupid to leave a perfectly good coat lying in the snow behind them. Slipping one arm into it, and then the other (good thing the sleeves are wide enough to accommodate her cast),she mutters, "Fine. Enjoy your stick."

In the muted crunch and whisper of the snow--deep enough that it's both underfoot and all around--she tries to decide whether it's worth asking what he means. Curiosity gets the better of her, along with the knowledge that she's hurting for information about this freezing place. "What's Vor?"