It's not right. Every time he feels like he might find his footing again, he slips on the moving. grinding ice beneath her feet, like the surface of a river dammed by ice in the spring, an equally dangerous. Perhaps he should treat it as such. There is nothing more dangerous than thinking too much when encountering such a river, treacherously stable piles of ice plates stacked and crammed into one another. One must follow one's instinct, or be surely pulled under.

Or perhaps more thinking than he can supply is required. Tuuli might do well.

"What are your sister and her brother-husband's names, here?"