Keirus had watched the group for a moment when they left. Having nothing to gain by going to the village, he stayed behind. His injuries seemed to have fully recovered now, and he felt a bit antsy. The urge to run welled up within him. It had been a while since he had ran just for the fun of it, and he doubted there would be time tomorrow. He went over to conceal his equipment in some nearby brush, then turned towards the mountains.<br/><br/>He jumped forward into the air, reaching his hands out before him. His body began the process of contortion as he fell. Landing on his paws, he immediately pushed with his hind legs, breaking into a full-on sprint. It felt great to run again. He had missed the feeling of wind rushing over him as he flew across the landscape. He wished he could do it forever, but after about half an hour he decided it would be best to get back to the lake. Besides, he had also wanted to get some practice in, and tonight would be a good time for that.<br/><br/>Upon reaching the lake, he made his way over to his equipment. His form changed back into a man's before strapping on his gear. The lake was a good place to practice, providing plenty of space to move around. He unsheathed his weapon with his right hand, and detached the sheath with his left. The long blade of the scimitar moved swiftly through the air, occasionally trading places with the sheath as he circled about. This was one of the combat styles he used often, utilizing the sheath as both a parrying and striking tool, while the blade countered and slashed. It offered versatility, since he could readily switch between offensive and defensive at a moment's notice. He envisioned anywhere from one to four random targets, as this was when the style was most effective. Losing himself to the flow of imaginary combat, Keirus practiced on into the night.