Clutching his side where a deep gash seeped crimson, 15 year old Athen grimaced in pain, his fingers coming away slick with blood. Despite the agony coursing through his body, he knew he couldn't afford to linger. Every moment spent stationary increased the likelihood of discovery by the enemy's forces.

Athen was a warrior, born and bred for battle, his veins coursing with the blood of generations of warlords. In spite of being just a teenager he was already well involved with the military efforts; wounding him in this very predicament. The scout party he'd been leading to the outskirts of Eldrath's borders was ambused, a stray arrow caught in his side. Athen had no choice but to flee.

Flee into the heart of enemy territory.