eons of warfare returning

His steps are careful, cautious, as he moves down. Descending from mountainsides and cliffs was second nature to the rot prince, but this? Well, it should functionally be the same. The same muscles engaged, the same care necessary. One foot in front of the next, Björn trusted himself. Predatory grace applying in much the same way as stalking furry creatures on the plains. All he needed to do was apply himself, right?

As the darkness began to swallow most things, he catches sight of the girl. She's a ways ahead of him, but certainly within shouting distance. Björn wouldn't allow his pace to quicken, lest he lose his footing on the steep incline. It's grassy, in ways he didn't necessarily anticipate. Not the strangest thing he'd seen lately, but certainly surprising. Lush vegetation around the edges of the hole, as he moves deeper within it.

"Don't slip." He calls to the girl, as he takes a moment's rest to plan the rest of his route down. Moving from the slight ledge, through the less steep pieces and parts of this. Björn's study is careful, analytical. His long shadow is still for only a moment, before continuing on down. Every movement calculated, devoid of his usual recklessness.

"Björn"