Stereotypes

He lead the way, scanning the forest for more visitors or more intruders. Occasionally, William turned to look over his shoulder to make sure it was still following him. "Oi, ye' like a mangy pup." It came out like a hiss. With every step nearing the boarder he thought more about how this beast was pretty much destined to die. It had no weapons, its greatest concern were berries, and it was already wounded. "Death knocks." He threw his phrase over his shoulder, swinging one blade in circles by rotating his wrist. They were about 3 miles out from no mans land, and he stopped to realize that he never filled his canteen. In annoyance, he turned around to face it. "On your own." Waving his hands and making the motion as for her to go. "GO." As far as stereotypes go, he fit the bill for a hot headed red head.