He's had a lot of decades observing sleds to get this right and once Oliver is settled, Jack lifts into air, wobbling a little but being braced by the wind. He flips his staff around, hooks the curved end through the front of the sled, and tugs lightly. The icy construct glides forward on the snow without the slightest whisper of friction, a perfect match of frozen surfaces and he feels a faint ping of pride.

Then they're off and the snowstorm that had followed them to the mountains has in return layered the horizon with a pristine path, and the sled is zipping along at an almost motorized speed, kicking up an arc of snow behind them.