Pulling her sweatshirt hood up over her head, Sigyn ducked down and covered most of her face with her arm, trying to keep her head low as she yells at the ravens in anger, for all the good that it will do any of them. Between Hel plucking the buggers out of the air, in a manner of speaking, and her own abilities desensitizing the pain that pecking birds would no doubt inflict, the group of them might stand a chance.

Where in the hell was the basket?