[ He should really just say it with his chest: she's a little challenged in the height department. Which she wouldn't object to because it's true.

Recovering from her little slip in the mud, she continues to make her way across the log before playfully hopping across to the other side. And what’s success if not celebrated with a little flourish of her arms raised above her head? She turns back towards him, satisfaction written across her features. ]

I feel like if there’s anyone that would be able to rope a bear it’d be you. Just imagine the song that Jaskier would write about that.

[ After a moment's contemplation she couches down to steady the log for him in return. If he does begin to journey across it he'll notice that it holds almost as steady as he had held it for her, alluding to more strength in her noodly arms than she'd ever admit to.

Behind her the lush jungle comes to life. Vines curl and slither silently through the underbrush as if readying themselves to investigate the newcomers. ]

How many brothers did you have?