"Everything here can kill you, but I can do it the most efficiently."
We had been hiking for about a day. I had no doubt the man acting as my "guide" did have the necessary skills to end my misery. I could not only be killed by his massive forearms and bulging biceps, but the various tattoos marking those clubs painted a picture I did not want to test; United States Marine, skulls, devils, and flames.
I respond only with a grunt. What did he expect anyway? He had been making threats and muttering to himself since the sun rose. He seems on edge. Almost like he expects me to instantly assume a super power and obliterate him. How could he be afraid of a short, petite thing like me?