Walking through Mystic, she might as well have been blind and navigating the streets from memory during an earthquake. Visibility was much too poor and the wind was so strong, buffeting them this way and that, that keeping steady footing was a struggle. They couldn’t even escape it in the alleys; the storm whipped into every little crevice like it was hunting them. But they made progress, and any tracks they might have left in the snow were erased nigh-instantaneously. At least they couldn’t be followed.