If Kinner isn't going to rope everyone together on the move, what business is that of Harrow's? With a scent on his mind, Kinner's right to question his common sense. One dead brain can only focus on so much at once. And right now?

That's the smell of the boys.

It leads him further into the gale, further into the unseeable whiteness. Soon, Matt isn't going to be the only one who isn't relying on his eyes.

Harrowheart snorts and sputters to keep loud, and now and then tosses his head for a grunt. Finally he finds his words and in a deep voice growls, "It's hard to track in this! The wind! The snow! I don't know..."

Don't know what? Maybe now isn't the time to cast doubt on this mission...