"Yes, I am the eldest son of Chief Uttar of the Xamarg tribe. "<br/><br/>The next morning they heard the horn call of a warg patrol and she asked him where the nearest river was.<br/><br/>"The Nine, just half a mile away. The good news is that the nearest bridge is ten times further away and if we can swim through it it's very unlikely that they'll send the wargs in after us-or that the wargs would agree to go. Our stuff will get wet, but it'll dry in the sun." Wargs were brave in battle for the most part, and normally very loyal to any good owner who treated them well, but they had a limit. They would go up against anyone who was fleeing, and even those armed with swords who stood their ground, but they would not charge spear-armed units, or jump into rushing waters. If they thought death was certain or near certain, they would refuse to put themselves in such danger except to save their cubs. "The bad news is that we might get drowned or swept over a waterfall. The Nine is an unforgiving river, but it's better then a forced wedding to some coward or some extremely old and ugly Orc which must be what your family want for you." They could hear the horns and the loud barks of the wargs. Whilst they wouldn't eat the Princess alive-the wargs knew her personally-they and their riders could easily prevent their escape.<br/><br/>The two went racing on, his hand in hers, until they reached the rushing rapids of the River Nine. Kall tightened his backpack straps. "Tighten your backpack, as if it gets washed off you won't find it again. Good thing it's not winter. Are you ready to jump? I will happily jump with you rather then face those hungry wargs and their riders."