Visibility was even worse than the blizzard. Above the fire, its own glow bounded and rebounded off the smoke to create a bright orange fog. When she wasn’t above the fire, Bitterroot had to practically skim the bushes to see them. Winds from the blaze rolled the smoke every which way and made flying tricky. The sound of burning wood made it hard to hear anything else. And to top it all off, the death of her reflexes meant she wasn’t blinking as much. Smoke got in her eyes and fogged her vision. Bitterroot forced herself to blink and get the particles away, even though it felt like hot sand was scouring her corneas.