Bramblepoint Oozings and visible membranes are rude and thoughtless

Dragomir could only watch as Marilla weaved through the branches, making her way to him in a manner that was far too slow for an impatient boy like him. He had to admit it would be nice to come out with fewer scrapes, but who wanted to spend hours picking their way through a forest like that? Not him. They would just have to agree to disagree on the best way to clamber through Bramblepoint: Marilla with her grace and caution, Dragomir with his bull-in-a-china-shop approach.

You call it inconvenient, he drawled, I call it a challenge. It'd take forever to get anywhere like that. Both of them would know full well that challenge was, in this context, a nicer word for a pain in the ass. He wasn't fooling anyone. Dragomir just wanted to seem impressive. It'd been so long since he felt like he was worth anything that he craved to be seen as bold and fearless, just a little bit, and everyone at Moonspear already knew he was no such thing. He had to seek his validation in strangers like Marilla.

Dragomir, he replied, pressing forward a few feet with a wretched amount of twig snapping and jabs in the ribs from errant sticks. From Moonspear. You from a pack around here?

NANOWRIMO: 215