Extra 3: Escape of the Hunted

Shreshka cursed the sun as it lit up the world around them, trying to stay out of sight becoming gradually more difficult as its influence made her dark skin stand out amongst the subtle green of the mountain grass.

she risked a glance behind them to monitor the progress of her companion, finding them burdened, but not too far behind them, maintaining impressive speed for the cargo they were carrying.

That particular burden let out a groan of pain in their half lucid state, sometime during their hurried escape one of their barely healed wounds had reopened with a slow trickle of blood, yet they have had no time to stop and attempt to treat the injury.

“This way!”, was the call that Shreshka heard as they pondered this, reminding them of the urgency of their situation.

Some time in the early hours of the morning, a couple Gritriag had picked up their trail and had been steadily gaining since then.

Even to Shreshka, who was unversed in the ways of the Keepers, the two hunters that were chasing them were amateurs, if they weren't the trio would have died long ago, but even amateur Gtririag were a foe far more deadly than they could face.

They had tried many times to shake them off their trail, yet neither her nor Retlafeh were particularly versed in the ways of stealth and with the burden they had uptook, there was little chance of erasing their tracks.

Sensing their doom approaching, the breathless former-slave rushed ahead once again, scouting ahead of their companion for a vain hope that they could find some method of escape.

Sprinting past the low hanging boughs of the conifers around them, the Orshraka stopped for just a moment, gazing onto the world around them.

The smell of pine and sweat suffused their mind as they desperately searched for some form of shelter, eyes darting from rock to tree to ditch in some hope that they will be able to escape.

It was then that she laid her eyes on their principle hope, there, at the bottom of one of the many colossal trees native to the homelands of the Earliag was a thick blanket of fog that spread over the land.

With an apology to Orsha for abandoning Her trial, Shreshka silently signed for Retlafeh to follow her as they rushed toward the mist, hoping it would save them from their fate.

The two half-ran half-stumbled their way down the mountainside and into the valley in which the massive tree rested, the steep slope and dew laden grass making the descent a treacherous endeavour.

Just as the former-slaves were beginning to reach their limit, exhaustion erring on overtaking them, an unseen root seemed to appear in front of Shreshka, causing her to fall to the ground.

She scrambled the her feat as fast as her exhaustion weary limbs could manage, but she was too slow.

From behind her, a resounding “There they are!” echoed throughout the valley, signifying that what had before been a tense game of whale and vulture was now a serious chase.

Before, the Keepers had been more concerned about following their tracks then keeping their speed, yet now that they had spotted their prey, any thought of delay was discarded.

The Gtrirag began to sprint at a speed far exceeding what the two tired, malnourished Orshraka could produce, the gap between the two parties rapidly closing.

What little energy the overburdened fugitives had, they put into their final sprint toward the safety of the fog.

Blood rushed in their ears as they approached the dark mist, and for a moment it seemed like they were going to make it, the lead between them and the Earliag large enough that even with their enhanced speed, the trio would be able to escape.

That was until they heard the whistling of approaching arrows.

She heard a gasp of shock from behind her as a deadly projectile missed Retlafeh’s head by a hair, the usually stoic Orshraka unable to conceal their surprise.

Yet he was not alone in his worry for long, Shreshka facing a similar issue as a vengeful arrow landed but two steps from their feet.

The trio didn't stop for long however, the added threat only managing to coax a smidgen more speed out of the escapees, having long since reached their limit.

Unable to take shelter from the hailing missiles, the two put their all into closing in on the fog, Retlafeh only trailing marginally behind despite his extra burden.

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For a matter of moments that felt like a thousand eternities, they faced the fire and pursuit of their hunters, until, in a moment of utter relief, the cold mist closed in around them.

In an instant, the revealing sun was swallowed and the sounds of their pursuers muffled, drowned in a fog so thick the former-slave could hardly see four steps in front of them.

Despite their relief, they did not stop, knowing well that all their efforts would be for nothing if they were found.

And so they went on, making efforts to twist and turn to make sure that their pursuers had well and truly lost them.

Only when Retlafeh crashed to the ground and dropped the still bleeding Hureheh, did Shreshka permit her legs to fail as well, taking her rest on the cold, dead ground below them.

As her adrenaline faded and body began to prepare itself for its much needed rest, she began to notice a peculiar feeling.

At first she believed that the pain in her lungs was just a result of their rapid aspiration, yet as she focused on the feeling more and more, she noticed it was not the familiar pain of over exertion, though that was very present, it felt instead like her lungs were… itching.

And with every breath she took, this feeling seemed to increase, causing her to start coughing, unable to breath properly.

In a instant, her skin too felt a similar feeling and looking down she saw that it was covered in a bright red rash.

“The fog is poisonous”, She realised.

“Quickly, Retlafeh, get up, the fog is toxic!” she called.

Yet both the injured Hureheh and the exhausted Retlafeh were unresponsive, the latter’s overexertion guaranteeing his collapse as the same rash spread over his body.

She attempted to stand, yet her own exhaustion was not far removed from that of her companions and her legs gave out from under her.

As Shreshka’s eyes began to sting and her vision blur she desperately searched for anything that could help her.

Yet around her was nothing but long dead grass and the clothes on her back, the trio having little worldly possessions which they could have took.

Just as her vision began to fade and darkness take her, Shreshka’s blurry eyes rested on the gift that they were given by the peculiar Golem, the star-silver coin.

In that moment, the gift seemed to take on a almost otherworldly sheen and in a instinctive decision, the former-slave reached out for the coin, grasping its cold surface in their hand and clutching tight.

“At least I will die honouring my saviour”, they thought.

Yet as their pain increased and their mind dulled, one persistent thought echoed through their head.

“Will I be accepted by Orsha?” she thought, had she truly fought to the bitter end, did she face an honourable death?

Her muddled mind said yes, after all, what more could they do when their escape was so utterly hopeless.

Yet somewhere in her heart, she felt there was till something, though she knew not what it was.

As her body began to shut down in the poisonous air, she belatedly noticed something peculiar, the coin in her hand seemed to almost vibrate in her fingers.

It was a curious sensation, one the former-slaves was near convinced was just a product of her failing nerves, yet something told her otherwise, it felt too familiar, it felt like magic.

On one final hope, Shreshka did something she had not done for a great deal of time, she raised her hands and began a spell.

It was a piddly spell, more a ritual prayer to honor Orsha than any attempt at magic, but it was one of the few spells that Orshraka were permitted to learn by their oppressors, and the only one the escapee was able to use.

It was a spell to summon a light wind, representative of the great winds that Orsha sent across Shreshkas homeland in the colder seasons, under darker moons.

Despite her shaking hands, Shreshka completed the spell, only a single rune appearing in the air because of its simple nature.

But before the former-slave even felt the wind the spell produced, they felt the magic that powered the spell be drawn into it in quantities far exceeding any amount they had ever seen before.

She felt it being drawn to the coin, then being further sacrificed into the simple spell, its singular rune growing so bright that Shreshka could see it even through her damaged eyes.

And then the wind came.

Shreshka had expected a breeze no greater than ones own lungs could produce, yet what came could not be rightly called a breeze, a storm being a far more apt description.

Shreshka could not see the wind, yet she did not need to to feel its power.

The former-slave held her breath in shock at the magic that was just realised, far exceeding her wildest hope, but her next breath shocked her more.

Clean, fresh air pervaded her stinging lungs, a fresh breeze blowing into the now parted fog which brought with it a new surge of energy within Shreshka.

“This is my chance”, she thought.

With a final surge of energy she did not know she had, she stood up, shambling her way to where her friends lay.

She could not see, but she remembered where they lay and to her luck, they remained there.

She didn't bother trying to hoist their limp bodies onto her shoulders, she knew that she had not the energy to do so, instead she grabbed one of each of their hands, and dragged them.

Slowly, step by agonising step, the Oshraka dragged her friends through the dead soil and toward the source of the breeze, hoping beyond hope that she could escape.

She knew not where she got the energy to do what she did, pehaps the magic or fresh air had revitalised her in some way, or maybe it was a hidden blessing of Orsha to help her through her trial, in that moment, Shreshka did not think of these things.

After what felt like hours but what was likely a collection of moments, the former-slave’s limbs finally gave out, even the power of the adrenaline pumping through her veins unable to keep her going.

She collapsed to the floor as her mind finally shut down, her final thought being,

“Did I make it out?”