Off the ice by noon, now that sounded appealing. Fallon was still mildly convinced they were near some sort of village or town (as the other alternative was an assassination attempt and she didn't want to think about that), but even that would be better than being in the tundra alone. "I'd accept just finding some sort of food."

She set to work on the twigs. It was dubious work. Everytime she attempted to attach the tail of the broom to the shaft it would fall to pieces or revert back to their original state. Whatever broom came out of this would have to be flown low to the ground to prevent a possible death.

After about thirty minutes of the struggle, she eventually had something resembling a bewitched broom. It wouldn't fly the fastest, but it was better than walking for hours on end. "Not my best work," she admitted with a sigh as she ran a frustrated hand through the pieces of hair that had escaped her messy bun. "Take it on a test run, maybe? Don't go higher than what would be a painful fall."