Mirage stuck to the higher parts of the landscape when he could, avoiding clear or blue ice in favor of thick white ice or the rare rocks. The few times he had to cross made him nervous; the first crack had him reflexively going invisible and skittering across the ice to the nearest rock at a instinctive run.

His engine was already working double time, trying in vain to keep him heated. The internal temperature of his extremities was already dropping, and his exposed joints were going sore and stiff as lubricants micro-crystallized between movements.

He was all too relieved to finally get within sight of Cliffjumper, after he rounded the next bend. He barely remembered to turn off his emitter before hailing the minibot with a ping.