He pulled his deer cloak close, huddling in it, revelling in its warmth and ability to insulate from the cold, the parts that weren't ripped and torn at least. Pushing himself to his feet, he soldiered on. He was in a dark and cold tunnel, the street above him partially visible through grates that let in flakes of snow and frost. The cold light of the evening coloured the tunnel a cold and deathly pale blue where it was not covered in shadow.