Linus reveled in this sort of thing. It wasn’t exactly that he enjoyed a fight – people got hurt, died, that was never something to take genuine pleasure from – but if someone wanted to test their mettle against him, Linus would barrel into that challenge with a smile on his face. The violence wasn’t his passion, but the battle of wills and strength was.
And, hell, for all that she seemed like a stubborn sap, Hammer Lady was keeping up pretty well with his wild ferocity. Better than just well, as she put on more speed in order to pass him up just as they reached the tree line.
What a bitch move. He liked that.
“Oh, come off it! You probably just happened to be closer! Getting to that bastard first means absolute bullshit unless we’re starting from the same place!” Linus complained loudly, though he kept his head on a swivel, looking for whatever foe had announced its presence with that shot.
There was no obvious sign of anyone else in the woods but them. That, however, didn’t mean they were alone.
Hammer Lady, however, seemed to be pulling up, letting down her guard.
“Oi, oi, you gonna give ‘em an opening just ‘cause they ain’t playin’ fair like you?” he snorted in disappointment, keeping his gaze trained on the trees. That arrow had to have come from up high; they’d been far enough away from the woods that it would have been the best option to go higher, giving the archer a better vantage point. But where, exactly, had they shot from? It wasn’t like they could go climbing every tree around here…
“You got anything on you that can start a fire?” Linus asked, darting his gaze to Neoma for a brief moment.
He prodded, first, at the opening she was giving — which was fair advice, given from another, not taken from him. She raised a teasing eyebrow, almost danced at a sarcastic quip, stalled it for now — saved her words where they may fall deaf. He continued, though, giving her more than ample opportunity to begin anew, and... what was it he was saying?
Now — Neoma was not one to balk at fire. Coal pits and golden flames have been a constant companion of her life. From the mouth of the Red Mountain to the firesides that warmed her bed — she knew fire like she knew a companion, albeit a restless one. And though she didn’t know it factually, she had an instinctual hunch that this forest would regrow, were it razed, and stand ten times taller than it did before.
But... it seemed so foolhardy. Foolhardy, for nothing.
“Don’t be ridiculous. An archer would shoot you while you were bending over, prodding at the kindling. There’s a better way to cull them down.” Now, only if she knew what that was. She was used to working on an even playing field — not taking account of the treescape.