Garinor’s conscience would not allow him to jeopardize the safety of strangers. He decided instead to take his chances and run down the hill to hide in the brush at the bottom.
He glanced over his shoulder one more time and he saw the two riders coming closer. He assumed the man who had distracted the others had been overcome and now the others were after him. He had to act fast. It seemed to him they weren’t riding with utmost speed, as if they were trying to verify his trail, but they were certainly coming forward with purpose.
He debated against jumping back into the stream, as that would only slow him down. And so he ran.
His feet thumped against the grass and rocks, squishing as he went. It was difficult for him to keep his balance, for his feet were heavy and slippery and the loose pebbles and stones made the ground unstable. He kept his arm out to the side for balance, but it didn’t help him much.
On one slippery step, Garinor’s tenuous balance faltered and his foot slipped out from underneath him. His arms pinwheeled to no avail. He went down.
His body hit the ground hard and, with the slope of the hill, he kept going. Tossing and flipping about, Garinor rattled down the hill gathering speed. Nothing he did could slow him down or give him purchase.
The world flashed by rapidly, spinning with terrible speed. He couldn’t make out any detail except at one dreadful moment when his eyes caught sight of a boulder that was larger than the others. It was directly in his path.
Garinor’s body struck the large stone with a horrible crack. He flipped over the stone and spun in the air, coming down hard upon his head. With a loud pop, his neck cracked from the impact and then the entire world went dark.