Daz hesitated before lowering himself to the ground. It was cold but the ice hadn't spread, like Cora had said. Daz pressed his ankle against the wall. He anticipated the bite of the ice, but it was more shocking than he had prepared himself for. He clenched his teeth to avoid shouting, but he couldn't keep an uncomfortable hiss from passing through.<br/><br/>Gradually the pain began to be replaced with a tingle, then numbness. Daz looked up at Cora. He had rarely been asked to make his own decisions. He tended to follow others, or was told what to do. It had rarely bothered him, knowing it was a way to live his way safely. Until he had joined the rebellion, at least.<br/><br/>And look where that choice had led him.<br/><br/>The pain in his ankle was gone, but Daz still know that he couldn't put his weight on it. Otherwise he would just injure it further.<br/><br/>The cold that had saved Daz from the throb in his ankle started to prickle at his skin. If they went that way, there was a possibility that they would freeze and die. Though the jumpsuit wasn't threadbare, it didn't seem built to conserve heat.<br/><br/>Would freezing to death be interesting enough to their possible audience? Daz slowly lifted himself up using Cora as a support, but with less urgency. He would take their chances going down the path.<br/><br/>"We'll keep going this way." Daz said firmly, trying to show some semblance of leadership and decisiveness.<br/><br/>The lights were beginning to fade from the sky, but it didn't appear to be getting any colder. Daz tried to recall if either of them had some sort of way to light their path. He didn't think so.<br/><br/>"Why would you give it up?" Daz asked, a bit more harsh than he had intended. "That life in the upper levels. Why the hell did any of us matter?"