Whitefish River And if the night is burning,

Maybe eventually she would learn not to look down on the man only because he was mildly smaller. She knew nothing of him, not that he boasted as she did about his abilities and past experiences. No, he too had been through hell and back. Choosing a more laidback lifestyle to leave the hellish landscape behind of the man he use to be - and he was much happier now too after doing so, but the scars hidden under the pelt told a different tale. He had proven his strength and tactical abilities by throwing himself against Ira before, and others - though only in friendly matches, he showed his prowess even in a more lighthearted spar. 

All the more reason to not fall behind! He was tireless, a lifetime lacking the ability to feel when his body was pushed to its very limit has given him nearly unmatched stamina, only falling in fatigue as his legs would give out. Only then would he be aware of his fatigue. Through his own training, he took in air methodologically to keep his body fueled as he easily kept pace with the longer strides of Orlaith. He was a freak of nature, and he was damn well proud of it.

Careful to keep an eye on her body language on where they were heading, he shadowed Orlaith until they found what they sought.