He was quiet, save for the sound of his trudging through the snow. Sleepy. He knew firsthand how susceptible Wembley was to darkness, the sort that suffocated you from all sides, and judging by how the forest was starting to surround them, somewhere behind already thick stormclouds the sun was setting. They'd have to find shelter, and soon.

As for his answer? Well, he delayed that a bit too. His answer was no better than Wembley's, but... His friend had been honest. How could he be any different?

"I can't feel my tail, or the end of my nose." Or the lower half of his legs, honestly it was only each step that told him they hadn't magically fallen off.