You don’t know how long you’ve been running, but you don’t stop. You don’t even glance back at the officers as they chase you through the woods. They’re both ogres, which means they could toss you across the forest if they wished. The only upside is that they’re slow, much slower than your lithe form.

You keep running, ignoring the thorns cutting your skin and the wind whipping against your face. You chance a glance over your shoulder, seeing the officers a little ways behind you. You’re losing them, but not fast enough. You’ll collapse before you manage to outrun them.

So you take to hiding behind a tree instead. The officers search for you for a few seconds before seeming to decide that you aren’t worth it and leaving you alone in the forest.

Your legs give out from underneath you, forcing you to your knees as the world spins before going black.

You wake to a metal-toed boot lightly tapping you in the ribs, squinting against the light of the now setting sun. Your eyes fix on a blurry figure looming over you, eyebrows furrowed in concern as he crouches beside you. You blink as the image focuses into a curly-haired elf that smells like pine and earthy aromas.

“Hey, are you alright?” He asks, though you’re too dazed to form a response. “You’re bleeding. Here, let me help.”

He fishes a handkerchief out of his pocket, pressing it against a shallow cut on your cheek. You tense slightly, hesitant to trust this stranger. The instinct to reach for your pocket knife grows stronger, but you’re too disoriented to reach for it.

“You scared the devil out of me. I was sure I had found a murder scene,” He jokes with a small chuckle, though it fades when you don’t laugh with him. He clears his throat, schooling his expression to be gentle, but still serious.

“Here, I’ll take you to my cottage. I have food there. It’ll help you strengthen up.”