A small goron rolled down the path of her family's home, dodging boulders with sloppy turns. She was not yet old enough to have spikes come out of her back to protect against enemies, but Gorunt's spastic rolling maneuvers helped her out in the long run. She careened past the final turn, and smacked right into the gate at the entrance to death mountain. Just like grand sire taught me! Gorunt thought, as she slowly uncurled into a sitting position. She checked out the small dent in the wood of the gate, letting forth a unsatisfied groan at the damage she wasn't able to cause yet.
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