Rhys can indeed climb the ladder. His hands find the rungs, then his first foot peeks out of the surging dirt, and he's moving slowly but carefully up. It takes him a few moments, particularly with Enoch riding along and shifting his weight, but it's not long before he's at the top of the exit and trying to feel his way for the door that will let them out into the open world.

The big, open world. A flutter of apprehension as the air changes, and he pauses at the threshold, trying to get his bearings or guess at least a little where they might be. Enoch is his eyes, but it's hard to trust when you've recently lost a major sense, and the churning intensifies as more dirt and stones are shed from his walking entombment.

"Not as cold as I expected."