Jira fumed silently as she leads the young boy out and over the ridge. She was not really mad at him, it was not his fault he was an untrained, heavy footed farmboy. He should have been trained, he should have been told and he should have been prepared. She intends on changing that as soon as they were well away from here.<br/><br/>It is apparent, now, that the evil had found the blood line he had been looking for. With the Uncle dead, his blood slightly diluted but might have done well enough, Kinnegar was now the sole heir, the sole protector of humanity. This young man who could not even walk five steps without making his presence known, holds the very world within the palm of his hand.<br/><br/>Silently she continues on, not speaking, and only allowing her displeasure being known by the glares sent towards him. Will he crack beneath the pressure of his birthrite? Will he step up and become the hero he needs to be? Will he disbelieve and run away? Only time will tell.<br/><br/>It is some miles that they travel, her in silence and only giving him glares if he dared to try and speak. It was not until they came upon a great ravine does she stop, shealthing her sword and absently rotating her shoulder. The moon has now set, and all was quiet and dark.<br/><br/>"We make camp here, no fire. It might get chilly and we do not have provisions at this moment, but we will remedy that in the morning." Turning, she looks at Kinnegar for the first time in the whole evening with slightly softened eyes. "It has been an eventful night. You should try to sleep, I will stand guard."