Rawlith-Dar began his long trek up the mountain with torch and axe in hand. His armor chilled with the snow and frost while his coat whipped in the wind, every second was spent being wary and somewhat cold under the shadow of the frozen night. Rawlith-Dar was better off then most though, the combination of his fur and the fur that lined every inch of his coat allowed him to be warmer then most, albeit he still retained a chill as well. While he knew it was unwise to a degree, Rawlith truly needed to push himself up the mountain and he began to sprint. He forced his way past snow-drift and stone-step alike with great haste and great exertion, and while this seemed promising for the early part of the trek, it soon began to hurt him. He reached the looming heights of the mountain and the air became thinner, this presented a problem for him and his torch, with the thinning air making his torch a low wisp of fire, he dropped it altogether and raised his hands. A blue light resonated from his palms as he continued to walk up the moment with a slowed pace and after several minutes of channeling his magic he released the light to spawn up a familiar. A swarm of brilliant green lights encircled him and tiny noises could be heard. He had summoned Elsweyrn Sparkflies, a cousin to the Skyrim Torchbug. They lit his path the rest of the way and he moved on, halting his sprint, but continuing with a light jog. After a few hours he seemed to pass some people, a few pilgrims, and then were a male and little lass, which he noticed was odd, but nevertheless anything out of peculiarity with the rest of the world.