Though it's tempting, Teren is momentarily content to allow Helena to do the shoving. The sound of impact is satisfying enough either way, and a decent signal to break cover so they can start looting. What is combat for, anyway? These are people's sons and daughters, fathers and mothers, but everyone dies eventually, and at least they got to do it with valor or whatever horseshit helps people sleep at night (sleeping at night is for cowards).

Slipping nimbly down the ravine, Teren pauses to spare a swift kick for someone still twitching, then bends to start patting him down for any useful missives or, like. Mints.