His heart ached, his head pounded. His body was immortal. With a gigantic roar, Saeilith slid down the mountain at the speed an avalanch. A sudden gap, a rift in the mountain, Saeilith roared again and leaped over it. Without breaking a stride, he rolled to break his fall and began to sprint again. The farther she got from him, the more his heart ached the more he felt anger, the more he wanted her. At the a cliff, Saeilith shouted again the third time, and leaped off. He landed in an echoing crash, denting the ground, yet he was not dead after falling over fifty meters. He would not lose her, not when he never had her to begin with. Run.