If Sif notes the edge in Cho's voice, she does not acknowledge it. What she does instead is raise the tip of her blade to the ice, etching a line in it experimentally. The mark doesn't fade or morph away, as she half expected it to.

"Your reasoning is sound enough. I would only caution, as I suspect you know, that if this maze is Loki's doing the rules of it are like to shift as soon as they are named. I will go first, if there are no protests."

She moves to walk in of Cho and Faolan -- a greater risk is a fair trade, if the sorceress is willing to act as a pack mother. Sif has no talent in the arena. The closest thing she's had to a child in recent memory was a cursed dream she was forced to decapitate.

As she walks, her sword makes swift, nearly soundless cuts into the ice, marking off where they've been behind it.