Caius moved through the jungle like he was born in it, silent, purposeful, not a single twig snapping beneath his boots. In contrast, Arian was a walking noise machine. Every other step was accompanied by the sound of a leaf crunching, a branch snapping, or him dramatically sighing about how "nature was trying to kill him."
Sometimes, he flinched at the sounds HE made.
The sun peeked through the canopy, spilling patches of light onto the mossy floor, and Arian hopped over a root to keep up. "How are you still walking after the injuries you sustained?" he asked, voice full of genuine confusion. "Aren't you in pain?"
Caius didn't even look back. "I'm used to pain," he said flatly. "And these injuries are not that bad."
