The trail was hardly that. A nature reclaimed path so narrow he practically ran on both sides at once. Weeds whipped his shins and roots rose like witch steps in so-far-failed attempts to trip him.

Out of breath and injured, he could only focus on the angered, murderous shouts of the steves following after him, no doubt with torches and swords in their hands. This wasn’t the first town he’d been chased from, it wouldn’t be the last - if he could escape that is.

Finally, his luck ran out. An upturned root caught the toe of his worn out boots. He stifled his scream to a spooked gasp as he tumbled to the ground. Areas of skin burned while rocks stuck into the wounds. He had to get up or they’d catch him, but his body…he was so tired…