his small crack in a cliff wall, well north of the last outpost, hardly merits the term "cave", let alone "cavern". There are far more impressive systems of ice caves that are not distinguished with a name, yet the local clan that counts it in their territory insist upon using this unimpressive and hardly distinctive site as a landmark. Purchase enough drinks for them, and you may learn a little more.It seems that some generations previously, a holy man who was not a shaman came to live there. At first he attracted a group of followers, and wherever he would run off to, to be rid of them (for he professed to dislike the society of others), they would find him. Until his pet breeze decided to take a hand, and filled the entrance of Hermeeze Cavern with a wall of wind no follower could penetrate.
They knew he still lived, because the holy man wandered the wastes bare of foot, and his distinctive tracks could be frequently spotted marking paths through the snow. No one saw the man himself, however, for the hermit's faithful pet breeze would fling up a curtain of snow, and guarded the entrance to his living space for as long as he lived.
They found his corpse one day, all signs of the breeze familiar vanished, and gave the body to the local Hungry Spirit to appease it. That was the end of the Hermit, but they still mark his home.
Just in case.
You never know with holy men, after all, especially ones who make companions of the weather.