There aren't any birds with him, this time; they're ill-suited for underground. There's just Deron, his long coat and gloves, coming up with his own torch and shovel - and, at his belt, his sword, and at his back, his shield. Both Emery and Lance are given a quiet nod in greeting; the blessing of age and not having anyone too fancy about means Deron doesn't need to do much more than that.

Instead, he grimaces, casting his torch over the entrance. 'Calls for help'. Damned if they didn't look into it, that was for sure, but possibly damned if they did, too.

"Had a couple of the young ones who wanted to volunteer take up spots in the village tonight, Captain," he says after a moment. "They were asking about helping, but-" I didn't want them to die "-told 'em we might need people alert to get the healers, or carry people through the snow."

And if it all went terribly, they could sound the alarm.