He ran through the woods, branches tearing at his clothes. The more he ran, the more refuge seemed to elude him. He broke through the cover into a clearing. Turning around, trying to find a place to hide, he realized he no longer knew where he was. When he was younger, he used to run through these woods, playing hide-and-seek with his friends. But he was older now, and this was no longer a game. If they caught him, it would be his end. He’d done too much, intrigued and insulted the wrong people. No, if they caught him there would be no chance of his survival.

Hearing a stream, he ran towards it, feeling the hounds closing on his trail. If he listened, he could hear their howling. He could feel their fangs piercing his neck, their claws tearing his flesh, their hot breath ripping over his body as their handlers laughed. No, he mustn’t think of such things. There is still a chance he could be rid of them. A few years past, he had found a cave beneath a waterfall. It was in this general direction, and the stream was promising. Wading through the shallows of the river, he plodded upstream. It had to be nearby. If it wasn’t–well, he didn’t want to think of that…