Looking around, the stag pulled what appeared to be a dead bush from under a snow mound; Its tiny branches and twigs dry, if somewhat covered in frost. Whirlwind lowered his antlers to the bush and whispered something. His antlers glowed a soft golden light but produced no aura, sparks of fire erupted from a point between them and reached out to the bush and… Nothing. The sparks died, and the bush did not catch fire. They barely seemed singed. Whirlwind tried a few more times, surprised at his own inability to set the bush on fire and growing increasingly frustrated. Unnerved, Handy looked around. They were abnormally close to the cliff face here, although which side of the canyon they were on, he could not say. He looked around, trying to find the bridge they had descended from but unable to see it anywhere above them. Alarm slowly mounted within him, "Whirlwind. Cast a spell, any spell." 