Garinor dashed off the road to the west into the trees, leaving the fallen guardsman behind. The awakening sun disappeared under the thick canopy of leaves and he found himself cast into a bewildering darkness. He knew he would be able to see better once his eyes adjusted to the gloom, but he wondered if he would have time. He figured someone was chasing after them.
He headed deeper into the woods, putting distance between himself and the road. Though he had often been hiking in the forest, he had never needed to be cautious before. His bare feet crunched down on twigs and rocks and he gasped from the pain. His feet were soon cut in many places and he stumbled often.
Scratched and scuffed, Garinor felt that sense of panic welling up inside of him again. He didn’t even know which direction he was heading in. All he knew was he was terrified, alone, and someone had died trying to take him somewhere.
He stopped for a break ten minutes later to get his bearings. Because the sun was rising, it would be to the east. If he could see a glimmer of the fiery sphere peeking through the trees, then he could turn north. He knew he didn’t want to head south because the attack had been there.
A few minutes passed and he heard leaves and branches rustling. His breath was calmer and the throbbing in his bare feet was less than it had been. He didn’t know if he was being followed, but it paid to be cautious.
He took a deep breath at last and he peered around the tree he had been hiding behind. It was then he really felt a moment of terror. Not ten steps away were three hunters, stepping expertly through the forest, making no sound at all.
Garinor struggled to remain silent. He pulled himself back to the tree and tried to steady himself again. One of the hunters was tall and broad, not much like an archer at all but more like a skilled swordsman. The other two looked like strong women who knew how to use a bow with deadly accuracy. Garinor’s brain raced furiously. He had no idea how to elude them.
Garinor risked another glance and one of the archers pointed off in one direction then another, and her companions went off as indicated. He breathed calmly at his luck. If they were splitting up, he might still get away.
He wasn’t even sure they were after him, but it didn’t seem wise to walk out and strike up a casual chat about it.
Biting his lower lip, Garinor reached his left foot out and found a soft patch of dirt. He pushed himself forward and took another soundless step. He took four steps in this fashion before his careful pace faltered and he cracked a twig. Only moments later, an arrow thudded into the nearest tree.
He ran.
His feet pounded hard on the littered ground. The scrapes he had already earned were nothing compared to the new gashes he was scoring himself. Sticks and rocks cut open his feet. Stray branches reached out and slashed at his face and arms. Arrows thudded along his path, barely missing him. He noted they were all aimed at about the height of his neck and chest. His pursuer wasn’t merely trying to stun him.
The sound of a hooting owl echoed around him, but he realized in a detached sort of way that it wasn’t an owl. It was the archer alerting her companions the hunt was on in earnest.
A fallen tree lay ahead of him on the ground. He had no other hope. He was out of breath and even the adrenaline rushing through him couldn’t keep him going for long. He dove over the trunk and fell to the ground, scrounging for some way to conceal himself. He heard an arrow hit the tree a moment later.
He had been seen. His hiding place was hardly safe.
He took a deep breath and was ready to make another run for it, but a cold, shrill voice stopped him cold.
She cackled with a vile look in her eyes. “You didn’t make it very far, did you? Thought you could get away? It seems you didn’t escape soon enough.”
Garinor glanced up, horrified to see an arrow aimed right at his heart. There was no escape. He pleaded with his eyes and opened his mouth to speak, but then, with a searing pain, all the world went away.
Garinor did not survive.