Mister slow and steady over here wrecked the whole race!
Frode's hands sparked in frigid blue arcs as they beat against each other, sending crystalline flakes tumbling. Freed of frost, they ran the back of an ungloved hand across their chapped lips.
A niflgaldr can't feel the cold at all, but conjuring snow was thirsty work, and the course needed to be ready in a week. There was barely enough time to layer packed powder on, let alone check for enchantments or seismic anomalies.