Winter's used to it, too, though normally he'd be starting to knit together by now. Ugh. Sometimes he hates having to be a person now.

By the time Jaeger gets back, Winter has already dug a few shallow holes for some of the bigger pieces with the heel of his boots, and is scraping dirt over one of them. There is another piece, most of one hand, in his metal one, though the metal fingers keep twitching around it, something inside malfunctioning.

He kicks over the bag of sand, too, letting it start to spill over the wreckage, spreading it around with his boot. Kicking at things hurts, but bending over or crouching hurts, too, and he'd rather stay on his feet. "Pick a foot or and ear or something," he instructs. "Carry it with us. We need to go."