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

Nox lay in the dirt, belly down, panting like a dog, all semblance of dignity gone.

Even with his ghoulish healing, the damage to his body was considerable, and in his adrenaline-fuelled flight from the city, he had pushed his body beyond its capabilities.

As he lay there, the feeling of blood oozing down his back from the two arrows still stuck there and his breathing slowing down to more normal speeds, he felt so tired. He was more tired than he'd ever felt before.

A primitive drive in the back of his mind screamed at him that he had to keep moving. He had to flee. But his mind felt so foggy and exhausted, and his eyes heavier and heavier and heavier.

He woke with a sudden start, the sun in the sky jumping to midafternoon. His good hand was in sudden excruciating pain.

He pulled himself up and his hand towards him in defence of it. A small rat monster was dangling from his palm where it had latched on and refused to let go.

Panicked, he slammed his hand down on the boulder he was lying beside, breaking the monster's skull but causing him to howl out in pain as he felt a bone in his hand breaking as well.

He cradled his bleeding hand as he sat there. As he calmed from being woke in such a disturbing manner, he realized how thirsty he felt. With the wound to his face, his mouth was unsealable, and the inside had become dry, his lips just starting to crack a little.

He needed to work out what to do. How was he going to survive and get enough meat to turn back?

He heard a barely perceptible noise from a distance behind the rock. Something about it raised his hackles. He pulled himself up, peeking around the stone.

A short blonde woman with a large crossbow was slowly walking towards him, eyes carefully moving across the ground, tracking his path, he realized.

A half dozen men armed with swords and shields followed behind, each looking like battle-hardened veterans.

His heart hammered in his chest at the sight. Even on his best day, he didn't think he could take the six men. As he was now with one hand missing and the other broken, he didn't stand even the faintest of chances.

He looked around the wide hilly expanse around him. There were the occasional rock outcroppings but few places he could hide. Certainly, nowhere they wouldn't find him. He wasn't an expert on the geography of the area, but he vaguely remembered that there was a saltwater fen about a day and a half's travel south. Perhaps if he made it there, he could lose them in it.

Maybe he'd find a better option on the way, or maybe they'd even give up before then, he thought with an optimism he didn't feel.

It was now or never. He broke from the rock in a run. Even in the first few paces, his abused muscles hurt.

He looked behind him. The group were in an unhurried jog that slowly lost them ground behind him.

He ran for several minutes until the group were well behind him. He stopped to look back. They were carrying on in the same unhurried jog.

He realized their tactics with a sinking feeling. They were planning on running him to the point where he was too weak to fight back before they struck.

He was faster and stronger than them, but he was wounded and tired. They were fresh and still full of energy. He was hungry and thirsty, with no supplies. They were each carrying backpacks, canteens of fresh water clearly visible.

He forced himself to run again in a constant gruelling jog that would keep him ahead of his pursuers. He stayed like this for several hours.

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

The sun was close to setting as he looked around, realizing the group had slowly gained on him. Distracted, he tripped. He put his only hand out in front of him, it helped break his fall, but he screamed out a long primal scream as he felt the bones in his hand crunching against each other unnaturally under the sudden shock.

He forced himself up and realized the group behind him had stopped about a hundred feet away. The small woman leading the group held up her crossbow.

Stolen novel; please report.

"I can end this nice and neat when you're ready. A clean death is better than a struggle." She called out in a cold tone.

Nox ignored her words and carried on running. He could feel the arrowheads from the two arrows still grinding in his back with every step he took.

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

The sun set, and the stars came out, and still, Nox ran forwards, his ghoulish vision allowing him to see just as well as in the day. The group behind him had pulled out torches, seemingly unconcerned about stealth in their dogged pursuit of him.

An hour after dark, he tripped again, this time over a rock, his ankle twisting as he stepped on the rock hidden in the grass.

He managed to land on his good shoulder this time, and while painful, it was nothing compared to the pain in his hand the last time he'd fallen.

He lay there panting on the cool grass, trying to find the will to move forwards.

With a roar of frustration, he launched himself off the ground and forwards. A crossbow bolt flew between his legs as he did, passing through the space where his head had been a fraction of a second before.

"Up and attem, ghoul. You've got hours of running left in you." The woman called out with a voice as calm as if she was discussing the weather.

He carried on running as the night wore on. He kept looking behind, the group were clearly tiring, but they seemed well prepared for this death jog, whereas he wasn't. If this came down to a straight test of endurance, with him injured and them well-supplied, he'd lose.

He was struggling now, running slower, but every time he got too slow, the woman would fire at him with her crossbow. His coordination was enough that he knew he could dodge most of the shots, but she only had to be lucky once. He was being run to death.

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

As the sun began to rise, he considered the words of the woman, her offer for a clean death. He'd dismissed the idea of giving up as stupid when she'd said it, but now, as his body burned with exhaustion hour after hour, it started having some appeal.

He looked down at himself as he stumbled forwards, his clothes torn, bloody and mud smeared, his arm missing, his hand broken. He asked himself a question that he hadn't dared to ask before.

Why was he struggling against the inevitable?

His mind felt hazy with exhaustion. The world was unreal as his mind wandered.

Memories played across his mind unbidden. His parents investing a lifetime of meagre savings into buying his cart and his first lot of goods.

The grassy ground underneath his feet felt so soft. He was sure it would make the most comfortable surface on which to sleep.

He remembered the first body he had transported for his people, the terror he'd felt as he'd gently driven the wagon passed the gated walls, terrified the guards would stop him.

He felt himself trip over a clump of grass. He stood and continued running, the whole thing feeling distant, like it was happening to some other Nox.

He remembered the long days of driving his wagon and the silent stares of the other merchants as he sold the goods they wouldn't touch.

He must have slowed down. A bolt whizzed past his head, nicking his ear in its flight. He realized he must have decided to run faster again as he felt his legs pumping away with renewed force.

When had he decided to run faster? Did this mean he wasn't going to give up?

He remembered the two approaching him, the child and the girl, even the look of disgust on her face at his wagons stench doing little to mar her beauty. What had happened to them? Why weren't they here now?

He knew the answer, he knew that he knew, but his mind felt like it was creeping along now, exhaustion, dehydration, fear, and pain blotting out all but the most rambling lines of thought.

He remembered the attack. He wondered if they were still alive? he considered the question feeling strangely hollow in his mind, as if it lacked the emotional weight it should.

He looked down at the soft, soft grass beneath his feet. Why was he running again?

He couldn't remember why he was running when there was such comfy grass beneath his feet.

He looked at the hill in front of him, the hill he'd been about to run up and began to slow.

He looked behind him and saw a woman with several men standing a little ways away. He gave her a polite smile, or at least tried to. Something with his face felt wrong.

He watched with mild curiosity as the woman began to raise her crossbow.

He remembered now he'd been running from her. Why had he been running again?

He remembered the boy in the city, scared, yet spear still raised in defiance against Nox. Protecting those around him from the threat he imagined him to be.

He remembered hesitating, not being able to kill the boy. Had he always been weak? Had he always been too weak to kill, too weak to keep running?

He closed his eyes, waiting for the bolt and to sleep on the gentle green grass.

He saw a memory playing out in his mind's eye. He saw the day his uncle had died. He'd been a child, told to stay at home but had snuck out.

He remembered the smell of woodsmoke and burning flesh. He remembered the cheering of the crowd. He remembered the Order Keeper praying, thanking System for the monster being caught.

He remembered the look on his uncle's face, how he'd bucked and fought against the ropes, how he'd yelled back at the priest, calling System a false god and the Order Keeper a vile man stained in virtue and blood.

He remembered even as they tried to gag him, his uncle fought back, fighting to free himself from the ropes, fighting to speak, to condemn those who would condemn him.

His uncle had never stopped fighting, even when he knew he would die, even when all hope was gone.

Thunk.

He heard the crossbow fire and dodged. He felt the disturbance in the air as the bolt sailed past him, missing his chest by a fraction of an inch.

He opened his eyes and looked over. The woman gave him a calm look.

"Run, or give up now. It'll all end the same." She said as she brought out her winch to begin reloading the crossbow.

Nox turned and ran. Within a few moments, he crested the hill and spotted the fen in the distance. It was still hours away.

He looked back as the woman finished reloading, and the group began to give chase.

Nox didn't believe he would make it to the fen. He felt sure today would be the day that he died, but if he was going to die, then he would face it on his own terms, fighting to live every step of the way.

He began to move again, as fast as his body would allow. Towards the fen, towards living and dying on his own terms.

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