Gonzo knelt in his overhang, watching the storm, seeing a red flare lost in the storm, pushed away by the strong winds of the blizzard. Nonetheless, the smoke from where the flare was shot was obviously in the direction of the Pelican. It was at this moment that Gonzo realized the rocket he had sent into the air had only alerted Render of possible danger and not Gonzo's discovery. With a grimace, he looked around. The ledge overlooking the mysterious structure sitting at the heart of the storm was a campsite at once, surely, with the burnt firewood of a hearth on the ground and a tent of matte green cloth ripped by the powerful gusts. His VISR had been flashing red for some time now, warning of breaches to the rubbery insulant sheen that Gonzo had worn to stave off frostbite. A shiver beginning to wrack just muscles, the youngest of the team looked at the dying flame of his cigarette and tossed it into the old firewood. Only sparks and light smoke came from it first, but the smallest of flames began to dance from it and soon a large fire had roared upwards. The snow surrounding it acted as a barrier for the flame to expand and consume, and huddling above it for warmth and foregone strength. After a few brief yet invigorating moments of respite, Gonzo took a long, ragged sigh and stepped over the short drop, stumbling towards the Pelican once again and to regroup with Bender.