Following the shapeshifter, Deja clucks her tongue and braves the persistent cold for long enough to remove the scarf from her face.  "Looots of dark nooks down here," she mutters as she continues her descent.  At the call from Alwin, she turns and shakes her head-- the gesture is barely visible in the light closer to the rear of the group, and in the confined space and pressing of shapes, it's hard to tell precisely who she means to respond.  "Like we're crawling up Boreas' asshole."