"Sensible enough. I should've guessed," Brigitte says, sneaking another look at Maine's towering bulk while they work. He's his own built-in gym, really; meanwhile, the last few weeks she's been pondering what heavy things she could cram into her backpack to make her own workouts more efficient. A heavier run, a tougher climb as she clambers through the dojo's obstacle course or up trees.

"You know, if you're already chopping logs and firewood, the forge can always do with more," she says innocently, as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. "We burn through a lot, getting it hot enough for smelting. But it's hard work, so if you're only doing enough for your house, I get that too."

Can't blame a girl for trying, right?