Snow sucks. Ice sucks. Faro's doing his best to get Detlef or Colin to run all his errands for him, but there's one delivery he's got to make himself. It's not that far from his place to the smithy, yet by the time he gets there he looks like an exhausted mess, somehow sweaty and cold at the same time. Probably because more layers = more cold protection, therefore he's bundled the fuck up and his fancy shoes are for warmth and not traction.

Farogil doesn't go to the fire. He leans himself against a wall and takes deep breaths. He waves Fíadh over with one double-gloved hand, "Brought- brought you somethin-"
GET HIM

A SLED