There's no one else coming. Kahlil digs and digs until his knuckles are raw, his the bones in his hands and arms aching. A string of harsh consonants flow from his lips, curses in his native tongue as he finally reaches an arm buried beneath the snow.

The minutes continue to crawl as he digs. It's impossible to see how badly he's injured, and Kyle has to stop himself from just trying to yank him out of the frost, fearful of the pain sending him into further shock.

"Hold on -" he mutters, his breath turning to ice as it leaves his lips.

"Almost -"

Finally he uncovers Kell's legs, giving thanks that he didn't end up buried vertically.

"Kell?" Is he even still conscious? He tries to make sure before attempting to lift him.