Bramblepoint a bruise is a lesson... and each lesson makes us better

He met her with a tired and half-assed smile, because he didn't really have much genuine happiness to chuck at anything these days, even a pretty girl. Tuathal was thankful she only wanted to throw her weight around in ways that would benefit them both, though, and this deserved at least some pleasant reaction from his face.

"Thanks for the tip," he said, but proceeded to carry his merry way forward into the patch of brambles she had just told him to avoid. They did look thick here but he couldn't be bothered to waste his time looking for the clearing somewhere down the forest, and anyway, he just didn't really care. Mix that with the stubbornness that ran in the family nearly as strong as both wanderlust and baby-making, and you got...

... a very knotted Blackthorn. The winter made the plants brittle, at least, and he snapped through the tangle with a couple of snags and tufts of dark fur left behind, an apathetic compilation of hushed and muttered curses, but no dignity lost, because he never really had any to keep. He broke through to the other side with a final snap and a hobbled trip forward.