"Fuck," he said to himself. Fire mage? Nothing made him angrier than being burned. He almost apologized for swearing but merely shrugged. They were close enough now that action would soon be upon them, in one way or another. He winced at a sudden gust of wind and waited for it to pass. And then he started getting ready.
He unstrapped his shield and set it down. The next thing to go was his heavy coat. He set it over a low bough that was already heavy with snow. His breath hung in the air and he shivered, but it would be hard to fight in the heavy furs. He took his gloves off next. He had thinner leather gloves on underneath the woolens. With their fingertips clipped off, they were good for handling a sword.
He seized his shield and brushed the snow from its surface. It had just been repainted, judging by how glossy and bright the yellow appeared. Really it was the only bit of color visible there, like the sun standing out oddly in a field of grey and white.
"Alright," he said. "Let's go get a better look."
They made their way closer to the cave, slowly. He placed his feet carefully. The hush of winter surrounded them like the heavy, frigid air. Ithacles shivered again, icy breeze rolling straight through the fabric of his navy blue sweater. They came to stop behind a boulder, which could have been rolled in front of the mouth of the cave if four or five men worked at it.
But seeing as they left it wide open, they weren't expecting visitors. Not in this weather. Soon enough he'd be warm, he figured. Either from the effort of a fight, or being incinerated by a mage.