Thea ran. It was all she could do, besides hide, but the odds of that working again were slim, they knew her tricks now, knew what to watch out for if she suddenly vanished. And besides, in the time it would take to do so they would catch up to her, hiding didn’t work so well when those you hid from knew where you had hidden.
She wanted to ask why her, how this had all happened, but she knew the answers, she was there for it, she was the reason. She had been the daughter of simple folk, living a simple life, full of simple joys.
When she reached her first class it should have been a joyous occasion, a time where she knew where her life was headed, to know which path she was destined for. A [Farmer], like her Father, a [Herbalist], like her Mother, even a [Farmhand] would have been fine, like her Brothers. She even would have been fine with [Healer], like her sister. But no, she was a [Tamer], a class that was fine, could have turned into [Rancher], she would have been fine with that, but it had gone the other route, becoming [Druid]. And that was where the trouble started.
She didn’t know what prompted her to look up, to take her eyes off the road ahead of her, perhaps it was the subtle lightening of the sky in that direction, perhaps she felt some prelude to the ripple of power which spread across the sky like a wave across a pond. Perhaps it was fate, but she did. She looked up right as the sky was rent by a flash of light, as a blazing star tore from nowhere to arc over her head and into the distance.
She had never been particularly interested in the world outside her little corner of it, but even she knew this was not something that happened normally. And she could feel it, the power exuded that yet lingered in the air, a path across the sky leading from above her to elsewhere.
So she followed it, veering off into the trees, following as it unerringly led her onward. Perhaps it was her class, but the plants seemed to move aside for her, or at least she knew where they were and could run between and around them without seeing clearly. Her pursuers had no such luck, having to slow and turn back as they got caught in underbrush. After a while she lost them, though they would find her again eventually, inevitably one of them would be able to find her, and the chase would be on again. But unlike all the previous times they had run her to ground, she didn’t stop this time, didn’t need to. She could feel the path she needed to follow overhead, an unerring compass, and she didn’t tire as easily, running long after the sun had begun to rise.
They had planned to run her to the ground. Tire her out with constant pursuit, never letting her rest for long. They had mounts, and she was on foot, she knew the area, but they could drive her out and into unfamiliar territory. But somehow that never happened, she had long since left the place she called home, but she was never lost, she didn’t need roads or landmarks to make her way, and she had a destination, even if she didn’t know what or where it was.
A girl, alone, was a target. But even beside that, she was suspicious, unknown, and people distrusted the unknown, so there was a good chance some village would report her. But by the time they heard of her, she was long gone, sometimes by hours, sometimes by days, but even still it became apparent she was always heading in the same direction, the map of her movements went from a harried zigzag where they could pen her in with a dozen teams, to a straight line, out of their net, and the chase was on.
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It was almost ironic, the way she began to rely on her class, it was the reason she needed to run and hide, but it provided her tools she needed. When she grew hungry, it let her kill, when she grew parched, it led her to clean water. It provided her shelter and warned her of dangers. It showed her how the land changed, how as she followed the heavenly path laid out for her, the plants were more vibrant, the animals less hungry, more healthy, larger than they perhaps should have been.
She felt it in herself, too. The way she needed to take fewer breaks, and shorter. The way she grew faster and stronger, softness melting away. The way her senses sharpened, seemed heightened, except they never faded.
They caught up to her eventually, in a small village that could have been her own, were it not for the hostile looks she received as she walked through, though there had been those towards the end as well, from some. Maybe it was superstition, but word that she was wanted combined with their own problems led to them laying their woes at her feet. Wolves had come down and ravaged their livestock, something had ruined their fields, a storm had washed away the bridge, and they were all just generally feeling quick to anger and more aggressive, violent even. And that scared them the most, wolves were bad, but when you hear your neighbour snap and fights broke out that ended in more than just bruises…
So they turned on her, and she was almost relieved to find an outlet. A man tried to grab her and she hit him as hard as she could, and he went down with a cry. A couple of miners approached, snarls on their faces and picks in their hands, and she howled. And from outside the village an answering howl echoed. She had never seen a wolf, they were like dogs, or foxes, but bigger, she heard. They were so much more than that. They tore into the village, they tore into the villagers, and she felt every moment, every movement. She tore out the throat of a barman, she struck a miner and took his pick, lodging it in the chest of his friend. They were slow, so slow, she saw every strike and laughed as she dealt her own. A girl fled and she chased, pouncing and biting into her shoulder, shaking until the prey went limp. An old man drew a sword and she bowled him over from behind, claws digging into his belly as she leapt past him to get at the ones behind, grabbing his leg and dragging him away.
The first sign was when an arrow pierced her shoulder and she went down in a tumble, yelping. Then they were spreading out, surrounding her. Anger erupted in her, an anger she hadn’t known she possessed or was even capable of, not just Anger, Rage. They were the ones. They had chased her from her home. They were why she couldn’t stay and get married and have a family and live a good, simple, life. She tore into them, and they did not go down like she wanted them to. Like the villagers had. They had armor, and weapons, and they knew how to use them. They stayed together, close enough to support each other. They had spears and they kept her from getting close. First one, then another, fell. Them, her, she didn’t know. One stumbled and she took his knee, dragging him back, but another spear pierced her and another, and she fell. An arrow fell between her legs, and she leapt from behind a corner, onto the roof, off, sending them both tumbling, but she was better suited to falling, and was on her feet before him, on him before he was on his feet. But she couldn’t win, there were too many of them, and she ran.