The Bracken Woods there is no other word for spirit

"Perhaps," agreed Prophet in a voice that was low, smooth and utterly accepting of these potential predicaments. "But what's life without risk?" He was far from a daredevil but he knew in order to find something better he would need to put something on the line. His life was no better than that of any creature's. He licked his chops, contemplating the possibility of dying on the road, but there was nothing to living life if not discovery. For him, the northern wasteland was not the end game.

Rionach appeared to tire of their coy game of slow motion chase. As he dropped his own haunches to the stick-ridden ground, he was lanced with a bit of disappointment that she wouldn't endlessly follow him through the woods to ask questions of him. Being followed was an ego-booster for any man. It made them feel interesting. But Rionach ceased to follow and he allowed the game to fall to the wayside as he briefly attempted to read her expression in the wake of her question.

"I would not still wander if I had," he hummed, twisting his head around to regard her sidelong. "I will find them one day, the end to all my curiosity," of that he was certain.