[@The Harbinger of Ferocity]
Unconsciously his mind retraced his steps, his vision glanced behind him to see a thin trail left behind himself. A line of footfalls where he'd been, clear evidence that he'd walked this way. The thought took a moment to process and he realized that he might be followed in this method, realizing that he was both out in the open and likely reeked. His nose could only smell that icy coppery scent your nose takes on when chilled and frosted, but he could feel the sweat inside his coat and boots. Returning his eyes forwards he raised his arms up slightly and picked his pace up, pressing the spears against his waist to narrow himelf as much as possible. Hot breath steamed from his lips and nostrils with every breath, he breathed in with both to gulp as much air as possible. 

Physically he was far from tired, strained but not from exhaustion. Every muscle fiber in his body was fighting against the instinct to break into sprint, to frantically run away from some unseen abomination. Livening his pace and thinking back to his childhood, the things he was taught young. How to survive, how to fight, how to know when to run. His father knew he was unhealthy, his father knew he would have a hard time growing up. 

Teaching him young, he was taught how to swing an axe. He was taught how to use his weight, great or small. Taught how to use leverage as the ultimate strength, taught how to weave bark fiber into simple rope and sharpen rocks by striking them at an angle. He'd need to construct something other than weapons soon enough, his clothes wouldn't be sufficient for keeping him warm for too long. A fire would be necessary, fortunately winter provides much in the way of kindling. How quickly could he get a fire started? 

It'd be minutes at best, right now the best thing to do was to keep moving. Keep the body warm with exhertion, friction of skin against cloth to generate heat. As long as his breath steamed he was alive, it was when he stopped breathing out steam that his concerns for fire should grow to their peak.

Consciously he breathed out, watching the steam pour from his lips in the near darkness. Tightened his hold on the spears and pulled his head down, tucking his chin to his chest.

He was fine.