throw across pond, crush every bond in hand

The girl was almost eighteen, a young woman who would probably
marry soon and have children of her own. But Larten still thought of her as
little Sylva. She was a tall, slim, pretty maid, but to him she would always
be a cute, chubby baby.

The boy was in his thirties but didn’t look much older than Sylva. He
was a vampire like Larten, aging only one year for every ten that passed. He
was of medium height, but broad, built like a wrestler. He could have
thrown Sylva to the far side of the pond, but he always handled her gently,
as Larten had taught him, careful never to squeeze too hard when he was
holding her hand, knowing he could shatter every bone in her fingers if he
did.

***

The Saga of Larten Crepsley: Brothers to the Death, Chapter 1