His enhanced perception tracked every footfall, identified stable ground versus loose rocks, calculated the physics of each jump across gaps. His dragoblin strength let him leap across chasms that would have required careful climbing for normal travelers.
Sylvara felt every landing jar through her healing wound, felt pain spike with each impact, but she kept silent—her discomfort was irrelevant compared to reaching the settlement.
Two hours later they emerged from the pass onto the far side of the mountains, Satou's legs trembling from accumulated fatigue, his breathing ragged.
"Status check," Sylvara said, using the same format Satou had established earlier.
"The wound has reopened slightly. Bleeding is moderate but not critical. Pain is significant." Sylvara's clinical assessment hid how much agony she was actually experiencing. "I can continue."
They continued down the far side of the mountain.
=====================
[EIGHTEENTH HOUR]
