[https://i.imgur.com/VGCFMQy.png]

K-Kaw! K-Kaw! The harsh cry of a corvid cut through the muffled sounds of the morning air.

He awoke, the rhythmic pounding of pain in his skull irritated by the noise. Instinctively, he reached his hand to his aching head, or at least he tried to. As he moved, he felt his entire body trapped save for the coarse, grainy feeling of roughly carved wood beneath him.

His eyes opened wide in fear, and the sight he found only disoriented him further.

There was something over his face, incomprehensible due to its unsettling closeness to his eyes. It took him a moment to decipher what was going on.

The disgusting but hunger-inducing scent, his sense of death pinging from directly around him, the gentle squeaking of a wagon's axle and the sway it brought.

He was on a dead collector's wagon, and there were a lot of other passengers with him on this ride.

Everything felt hazy still, like waking up from a deep sleep, his mind unfocused and unhurried. He felt the swaying of the wagon's cargo as it turned around a corner.

What had happened? Where was he? Vague memories swam in his mind as he tried to piece it together.

There'd been a coach and people, a boy and a beautiful woman. There'd been a figure dressed in brown, a white mask carved rough and deep with a spiral, eyes hidden deep within.

They'd moved with impossible speed. He remembered raising his arm to block against something... Then he knew nothing til waking here.

Nox felt his stomach rumble, low and deep like a snarling wolf. How long had he been out of it? How long had he been asleep?

He'd always been so careful to eat his meat often enough that he would never degenerate into the full curse. He could feel it deep in his pain-wracked body. The change had begun.

He doubted he could pass as a human now.

He was surrounded by the meat he needed, but even after eating, it would take time to revert. He'd heard the exact time varied from ghoul to ghoul, and he'd never needed to, so he didn't know how long it'd take, minutes? Hours? Days?

He heard a voice speaking and realised it must be coming from someone sitting on the wagon's seats.

"Did you hear that, Jark? It sounded like someone growling?" a deep man's voice said.

"What?" A second higher pitch man's voice asked, presumably the voice of Jark.

"Are we sure they're all really dead?" the deep voice said.

"Yes," Jark said with withering exasperation.

"I heard something growling."

"I doubt it. Remember last month when you were convinced that the old lady was still alive?"

"She moved."

"Yes, it was a rat." Jark sighed.

Nox listened in tense silence to the conversation unfolding next to him.

The wagon came to a halt.

A new man's voice spoke from outside the wagon, "The Order keeper is by the second pit. He's been working tirelessly to make sure every body is properly taken care of."

"Right," said Jark, and the wagon moved again.

He needed to get out of here, but he also needed to eat. Being caught by the Systemic Order would be about the worst way to go, but he needed to eat to pass as a human.

He focused on wriggling his body, his left forearm felt strange, almost like his hand was gripping the empty air with painful tightness, but he couldn't open it.

He also realised he couldn't move the left side of his face properly. The deep line of pain following up from the chin, through the palate of the mouth and up to near his ear suggested something was very wrong with his face. He felt his mouth with his tongue, and the feeling of missing teeth and deep gouges on the floor and ceiling of his mouth confirmed it.

The wagon stopped, and he could hear the sound of people moving and then two sets of steps moving away.

He paused, waiting to see if now was his chance to escape. Sadly the steps didn't go far. He heard them talking to the voice of an elderly man. With the muffling effect of the bodies he was buried under, it was difficult to make out the conversation, so he didn't try.

He shifted carefully, his left arm feeling even stranger as it did as if it had moved straight through a body he was sure should have been there, the betrayal of his proprioception sent a tiny wave of vertigo through him, but he didn't have time to stop.

He pulled his right arm free and carefully pushed the body above him out of the way. He saw sunlight, the first clear sight of the outside of the wagon since waking.

Free enough to move a little, he raised his left arm and lifted his head to look at it. He immediately regretted his choice. The arm was missing from just below the elbow. Even the cloth of his sleeve had been perfectly sliced away. His head swam with vertigo and queasy disgust at the discovery.

He dropped his head back and took a few deep breaths reminding himself that it would eventually grow back due to his powers.

After a second, he felt ready to move and pulled himself upright enough that he could see over the high lip of the wagon's sides.

He was in an expansive cemetery, and neatly maintained tombstones sat in rows. The occasional tree and high hedgerows worked to blot out the city outside its simple wrought iron gates.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The Systemic Order's temple was visible, as it sat imposingly at the cemetery's boundary, with its distinctive architecture of high unadorned walls and blocky build.

He could see men working in the distance filling in a long narrow pit. He saw a second pit that was unworked and certainly the destination of this wagon's passengers. A third pit was being dug by another group of men.

Three men stood next to the second pit. Two of them were dressed in poor, dirty clothes. They were presumably the owners of the two voices he'd heard in the cart. The third man, white-haired and dressed in the robes of an Order Keeper, looked to be in his late 50s, and his face and posture radiated exhaustion.

Luckily no one had noticed him yet, but he needed to get away. He pulled himself up, crouching low inside the wagon, trying to get a bearing on what he needed to do next.

Eat, he needed to eat, but he had no time to dawdle collecting what he required. He patted himself down, finding his knife gone, likely looted by whoever had loaded his body in the cart.

He looked around for options, and his eyes settled on an odd piece out. A hairy leg from the knee down attached to a foot still in its leather shoe. It was far from his first choice, but he didn't have time to be fussy.

He shuffled forwards picking up his unfortunate meal.

He then began to move towards the edge of the cart, looking around, trying to find a safe place to retreat to and hide until he'd eaten and waited long enough to pass as human again.

He heard wings fluttering behind him and turned to see a bird sitting on the wagon's far side, a crow.

He locked eyes with the wretched thing, with the symbol of his family's misfortune, and within the crow's eyes, he saw deep malice.

K-Kaw! K-Kaw! The bird cried out loudly enough to attract attention. Men turned, letting out obscenities and cries of surprise as a panicked Nox looked back.

He bolted blindly for the cemetery gates as he heard shouting behind him, leg still in his good hand.

He ran through the cemetery gates, his shoes made a stuttered clacking on the cobblestone as he tried to momentarily stop to get his bearings.

He looked left. A well-dressed man stood only a few feet away, fumbling to draw a sword at the sight of Nox.

Nox heard a sound to his right and saw the man drop the sword out of the corner of his eye as he looked across to see a noble's coach, the driver pulling on the reigns with a terrified fury in an attempt to stop as far away from him as possible.

The coach came to an abrupt halt, and the horse pulling it bucked wildly in protest of its rough treatment.

He heard the men from the cemetery screaming, already in murderous pursuit.

He looked around, trying to get his bearings. He'd been to Stonehaven only once before and didn't know the city well. If he had time to think, he could find his way to his kin in the city, but he didn't have time, and he couldn't bring this mob down upon their head.

In the distance, he noticed the towering stone walls of the city, a huge chunk seemingly missing.

The group was rapidly approaching, and the man on the street stooped low to pick up his sword.

He ran for the walls, their damage giving him a sliver of hope to escape.

As he ran to his right, he saw the angry mob of men from the cemetery digging tools raised as improvised weapons as they hurtled towards him.

He ran past the coach, catching a glimpse of how he looked in its dark windows as he did, glowing red eyes and pale skin pulled taught over his skull.

The coach door opened, and a regal woman stepped out, clearly furious at her driver for stopping so suddenly.

"Kill the ghoul!" one of the men shouted.

As he left the coach behind, he heard the woman scream and slam shut its door.

He ran through the wide cobbled streets of one of the more affluent neighbourhoods of the city.

He saw passing, shocked faces as he turned corners, angry men and women, many of whom joined the chase, a few with real weapons but many armed with whatever came to hand.

He knew he could probably outrun his pursuers, but they gave him no time to stop and consider as he ran for his life.

He turned a corner, almost colliding with a young man dressed in foppish clothes. Out of ingrained habit, Nox tried to smile politely as he moved past the man, but his ruined face made the smile look something more like a snarl.

The young man let out a feminine scream, and Nox could see him starting to faint as he lost sight of the man behind another corner.

He couldn't help but wonder if cities were this maze-like as he sprinted into one of the city's rougher parts.

He ran past a group of women standing in platformed shoes that raised them out of the filth of the streets and dressed in provocative clothes. A couple of them screamed as he passed, a couple more pulling daggers from about their persons in a clear message to ward him off.

A few streets later, he reached his destination, the city wall. He was by the main gate. A dozen men dressed in the bright soldier's uniforms of the city stood spears in hand at the entrance.

He stopped looking at the guards.

The nearest to him looked young, maybe 15. He pulled the spear up in terrified defiance, ready to defend those around him, not even looking back to see if the other guards were backing him despite the shaking with which he held the spear.

The other soldiers ran to close the large gates, to try to trap Nox.

Nox tensed as he looked at the rapidly shrinking gap between the gates, blocked only by the shaking defiant boy.

He was stronger and faster in his hunger, but with his wounds, he doubted it would be easy to get past the boy.

The simplest option would be to go straight for a killing blow. If the boy was dead, he could move safely past him. Slowing to disarm or disable the boy would take too long, and with the spear's reach, he couldn't simply dodge past.

He tensed, readying himself to kill, but as he did, he looked at the boy in his terrified face and knew he didn't have it in him. Maybe it was morality, maybe it was cowardice, but some part of him baulked at the thought of killing the scared boy.

Realising the moment had passed, he turned and ran, this time alongside the city wall. He remembered the gap he'd seen in the wall, looking for it as he ran.

He quickly found it, a huge section of wall, easily 20 feet across, had collapsed, and the rubble had been moved back into the gap to create a makeshift ridge and fill the gap in the city's defences.

The rubble's slope was steep but climbable. The bigger problem was the archers on the wall guarding this weakness in the city's defences.

He had to try, though. He began scrambling over the rocks, but it was hard going with only one arm while carrying the leg. He heard the guards on the wall shouting as he moved.

An arrow struck the rock where he'd just been before jumping to the next slab of fallen stone.

Thunk. An arrow hit his left shoulder, the shoulder of his bad arm. He lost balance, dropping the leg and tumbling back down the rubble.

He pulled himself up from the ground. Looking around, he saw the leg had tumbled several feet away. Between him and his meal was the young soldier, his spear once again raised in shaking determination. The other guards weren't far behind this obviously swift-footed boy.

Nox needed that leg. He was sure he had the power to kill the boy. The young soldier felt glacial compared to how fast he could move while like this. He looked the young man in the eyes, and he saw fear, but it was mixed with determination. The boy wouldn't go down lightly, and he had no time to grapple with him.

Nox gave a grim smile at the irony. If he was the monster the boy thought him to be, he'd have killed the boy in a heartbeat.

Nox turned, rushing back up the rubble, giving up the leg for lost. With his freed hand, it was easier this time. He climbed, managing to dodge several more arrows as he did.

He half tumbled, half climbed down the far side. He launched himself into a run, and he felt an arrow hit his back and stumbled, then another. He fell to the ground, tumbling head over heels.

He pulled himself up, blood and saliva hanging from his mouth, and ran.

Every inch of his body burned with pain and fatigue, every step he took felt like the last he would manage, but he took one more, then one more.

[https://i.imgur.com/oMrGBK6.png]

Soon he reached far enough away from the city that he could duck behind a rock without immediately being seen. He wasn't sure he was safe here, he wasn't sure there wouldn't be a hunting party sent out after him, but that made no difference. His body couldn't take itself any further.

He fell to the ground with all the grace of an anvil falling off a cart and lay there belly down in the dirt.

[https://i.imgur.com/3vZaHAB.png]