I keep a keen eye on the group of three as they draw near, but my main concern is when they return. Once they do, they'll likely search the house directly in front of them upon exiting the forest.

I'm faced with a crucial decision: leave now and hope that no other bandits are watching or that the group of three doesn't turn around, or wait until they enter the forest, hoping they won't spot me and that no more bandits are nearby. Both options offer equal chances, with the only distinction being that if I choose the first, I'll know if the group of three spots me. I quickly opt to depart now, for the outcome appears the same either way.

I sprint out of my door and veer left. Going right would take me closer to the village, directly in view of the market area where most bandits have congregated. Running to the left leaves me in the open for a more extended period, but the main group won't see me due to buildings obstructing their view. The potential problem lies in whether the group of three spots me.

"He is over here!" I hear a voice shout from behind.

I don't turn around and instead sprint as fast as my legs can carry me. The sound of approaching footsteps gets louder, closer, and I swear I can hear someone breathing right behind me.

I make it into the forest, but I can't afford to stop. I must keep moving forward, rushing past trees and bushes. My breath grows louder, and my stamina dwindles.

The dense forest looms ahead, and my heart nearly freezes, but my feet carry me forward. I would rather not continue, but I have no choice. It's the only way to shake off my pursuers.

I run faster than I've ever run since that fateful day. It feels as if they've faded away, but it could merely be my own fatigue playing tricks on me.

I dash headlong into the inky depths of the forest, running for what feels like an eternity. I can't see my hand in front of my face, so I eventually decide to make a turn. If I can't see, they can't either.

I collide with something, and after feeling around, I realize it's a tree. I can't hear anyone anymore, no footsteps, no sounds of pursuit. Yet, I still can't see. I choose to sit, my back against the tree, to regain my stamina and listen for any sign of my pursuers.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

I sit in the dark, listening intently, honing my focus until I can hear even my own heartbeat. After what seems like hours but is likely only a few minutes, I relax. My stamina returns, and the adrenaline subsides. I notice I'm drenched in sweat, my legs on fire, and any attempt to move them worsens the pain. I'm left with no option but to sit in the dark.

The situation brings to mind memories from my childhood when I would wake in the night. I was often too frightened to go back to sleep, even after a pleasant dream. I'd cry until my mother and father entered my room, the latter always with a sword, mistaking an intruder's presence. My mother would comfort me until I drifted off to sleep, but not before I could hear my father getting scolded for bringing a weapon into my room. The rest of the night would turn into a cacophony until I dozed off.

I chuckle softly at the memory but quickly shift my thoughts back to the current situation. The silence continues, and it's safe to assume the bandits are not nearby; otherwise, they would have caught me instantly.

I realize the fiery sensation in my legs has subsided somewhat, and I attempt to move them. While the pain lingers, it's more manageable now. I take out my stick from my bag, stand up with the tree as support, then use the stick as support, and begin to walk back the way I came.

I walk and walk, but I see nothing. I couldn't have taken a wrong turn; it's a straight path. "Perhaps I ran farther than I thought," I ponder, feeling a smidgen of pride.

After around thirty minutes, I no longer need the stick for support. Nevertheless, I'm lost, and the path seems to stretch endlessly. Until I spot a faint, distant light. I walk a bit more until I'm satisfied and sit in the dark. It's probably not the best time to leave, as the bandits may still be present, even though I can't see clearly. I can barely make out faint movements.

I take a break, listen intently for any signs of others, and try to look around to test if my eyes have adapted to the dark. Alas, there's no improvement. I lay on my back for a few minutes before getting back up. When I rise and look for the light, it's gone, and I shiver. "Did I imagine it?" I mumble, but then I hear something in the distance.

I discern a crawling sound, but it's not on the ground; it seems to be emanating from the trees. I quickly realize this noise isn't of human origin. Even if it were, the only likely candidates would be the bandits. I opt to move swiftly but quietly, for it appears the source of the noise is drawing closer, possibly attracted by my earlier mumbling.

I put some distance between myself and the source of the crawling. At the very least, I'll be able to hear if anything occurs. The crawling grows nearer and nearer, to the point where it seems to be precisely where I was moments ago. Then, it abruptly ceases, and I hold my breath out of fear.

Suddenly, a faint light emerges, gradually intensifying. I decide to move even farther away, ensuring the light won't reveal my presence. I scan for the light's source, and it becomes evident that it's coming from above.