Sawtooth Spire to endure steadfastly;

Oh, he's gonna stress about it.

Stag smiled at Praimfaya's encouragement, but really, he felt like he was just about to dance across fire to impress someone: what if he fell and got horribly scalded?

The likelihood of him even accomplishing anything scrape free was very slim.

So he dove, and Pri artfully hedged her shoulder towards him, forcing him back in a terrific counter that had his mouth agape. He steadied his clowny feet and looked at Pri in awe; was it that easy?

He cleared his throat; somehow, her encouragement that he shouldn't be afraid of hurting her made his legs wobbly. He didn't even think he was capable of hurting her, but what if he did? He would feel awful. He'd feel like the ugliest, smallest snail alive.

And so, Stag tried again -- this time he went to do what he had done before, only at the last moment he tried to change his trajectory just enough so that his shoulder would be there to meet any counter and hopefully brush through: because if you don't at first succeed, try the exact same method as before, amirite?