“If you’re close enough to the surface and the snow’s light and fluffy enough, you could try to dig yourself out. But if you’re too deep and it’s gotten compacted, then it’s fuckin’ hard like actual ice or stone. You’d need a shovel and that definitely means having other people come to dig you out.”

As mentioned: fucked. Astrid’s filled with these sorts of survival tips, which had been drummed into her but which are of extremely limited use in Kirkwall. Sometimes she wonders if she’d have been more useful with the Inquisition up at Skyhold, in the mountains, closer to home —

Her voice turns thoughtful, an idea occurring to her, since she hadn’t considered magic before: “If you had some sort of, I dunno, device which made portable fire, like our lighters but bigger? You could melt it and that’d help more. If your Lords of Fortune find anything like that, holler and let me know, yeah?”