Firestone Hot Springs you put egg on my house, i kill what you love.

Penn shrugged off her concern. He'd been hurt worse before and hadn't needed a healer. He was always getting banged up and bruised due to having an extremely stunted sense of self-preservation. He'd always survived his scrapes, so it never occurred to him to worry that he might not the next time. It was silly how she worried though, so he smirked. Didn't she know he was indestructible?

The Blackthorn was not at all disappointed by the poem she wrote. He was actually quite impressed and intrigued. How had she just come up with that so quickly? Everything she'd said was accurate enough, so he had no complaints there. I mean, the stag was still well and whole somewhere in the world, but its pride at least was likely in a heap of rags.

"I survived a landslide and ran down a mountain the other day," he mentioned when prompted, then pondered, "I stole food from a wolverine once and got away with it. I screwed with a coyote and got off without so much as a scratch. And that was actually the second stag I've pissed off. The first one, I admit, also got me pretty good." He pondered this for a moment. Maybe he should stop.. being so sucky at messing with stags. He resolved to get more practice in.

"Add more stuff about how handsome I am too," Penn added, happily wriggling around in the warm water.