Carly is seeing better days. While her approach has been steady, it has allowed shards of melted ice whipped back by the winds to cut at her body, slicing open at her sleeves and allowing blood to gather at slits. Her teeth grind, and while her chest is relatively protected thanks to her arms being there, her glasses are knocked aside with ease (And yet, she can see?)-and she flinches regularly in the face whenever something comes against it.

But the fire shield holds strong-melting things into 'manageable' chunks, and more importantly helping to at least slightly redirect the wind into its own less than horrible hurricane. She's by no means running ahead of the pack, and she certainly won't be there first, but her steps remain steady...a slow, snail's pace forward, the wind even now still blowing her backward along the ice little by little. A step to a few inches, each time, each time.

Her breathing is hoarse, but she's gathering as much strength as she can to make an important push once the opportunity comes.