The canyon floor smelled like wet copper and burned vegetation, and Blair Davenport was limping faster than any reasonable person with second-degree burns should have been capable of moving.
I kept pace three feet behind her because that seemed like the distance least likely to get me set on fire or pushed into the river. Blair had opinions about personal space, and those opinions carried the thermal output of a small industrial furnace when violated. I'd learned this during the past hour of navigating upstream through a gorge that the Void Gate had apparently designed to be as uncomfortable as possible for two people who couldn't stand each other.
"You're breathing too loud."
"I got clawed by a leopard the size of a Honda Civic. You'll have to forgive my respiratory system for having opinions about that."
