Winter sucks in a short breath, ducking her head when she spots the papers frozen in the air. Even after walking through multiple memories, her brain still expects those things to flutter or fall. For the moment, she is content to hang behind Presley, eyeing their surroundings.

He's right, finding just one thing in this mess is almost impossible. Except for all that fire. "I bet Pouch could turn the flame vortex into a killer prom dress," she observes, unable to resist the appeal of pressing her fingers to the frozen flame. "Literally."