Yelena tears her gaze away from the foam-tipped waves, stained slate grey by the sluggish clouds that occlude the sun and threaten yet more snow. She studies the mounded sand, eyes narrowing slightly in thought, the line of her mouth drawn down into a faint frown.

"That doesn't sound like monsters from the ocean," she notes, her tone a little flat. Unsurprised. After the avalanche of disasters that has followed in the wake of their imprisonment behind walls of entirely imagined ice, the idea that there might be a familiar threat to tackle, something their colleagues had dealt with and dispatched once already, is almost too good to be true.

A moment's pause, and that faint frown deepens.

"Unless they're the kind of monster that burrows to breed."