“So, how much can you see?” Kaid’s voice asked from the darkness.

“Pretty much nothing. What about you?” Joe quietly admitted. With the moonlight blocked by the trees, he had to hold his hand a few inches from his face just to see the pale blur of it.

“Gnomes are burrow dwellers like the ratigan or brer. Means we have good darksight. Not dwarf-level-good, but way better than most folks. I can see well enough to guide us.”

“What are ratigan and brers?”

“Ok, that is your one free curiosity question until sun-up, Joe. We gotta hustle and stay quiet for a bit,” the unseen Kaid insisted. “They are the ratfolk and rabbitfolk. Now take my hand.” Joe felt small fingers tap his. “Let’s go. The ground slopes a little downward, but it’s a real gentle hill. I’ll lead you around anything that will trip you. Just keep an even pace.”

“Wait! Before we go, we should dump the cloves here. That should give us an hour or so before the dogs' noses clear.”

“Maybe. I realized Gondavese has a packmaster class. I would not put it past him to have a skill to fix up his dogs if something happened to 'em. Still, it's a good idea. It should buy us some time, even if not a full hour.”

Kaid led Joe a little ways away and then went back to spread the clove around. The nimble little man made sure not to get any of the spice on himself while he worked. A minute later, the rogue returned to Joe and began guiding the blind human through the midnight forest.

True to his word, Kaid directed Joe along a route without anything to trip over. Granted, the path was a very serpentine one. There were a few spots Kaid had to carefully guide Joe past, such as a fallen tree, a dry pebbly stream bed, and under a fallen widowmaker. Other than those, they were able to maintain a steady pace.

Still, it was not a truly quick crossing. Even with Joe going as fast as he could in the dark, their pace was still far slower than Kaid could have gone on his own, or what someone could have covered if the sun had been up.

When a beam of moonlight allowed them to, they used the [Talisman of the Medic] to put sixty-foot breaks in their path, always angling off to one side or the other to confuse their pursuers.

After what felt like forever wandering in the dark, Kaid pulled Joe to a stop. It was still too dark to see, but the small man gave a tug down, sitting them both onto a carpet of old leaves.

“I’m surprised how well we did there. Lugging you this way and that was tough, but most folks can’t match your level of trust and just follow someone’s lead blindly through the dark. We made way more distance than I expected.”

“Thanks. Guess it’s a habit. I had people manipulating my body for a while. It's easier for everyone to just go with it,” Joe replied. “You know I can keep us going. Remember, I’ve got that stamina boost?”

“Nah, save it. Sunup is coming any minute now. So far, we have been lucky. There was an easy path we could take. The next section in front of us is too tangled. We’re better off waiting until you can see. If you twist an ankle, we’re done for,” the small rogue warned. “There is a good stream ahead we can use to throw off the dogs. You’ll need to see to navigate it. If you listen, you can just hear it.”

They both quieted, and Kaid was right; the swishing sound of water flowing across rocks was faintly issuing out of the night. Even so, Joe had to correct the small ruffian.

“That’s an old wive’s tale. We should stay clear of the stream.”

“What’s an ‘old wive’s tale’,” Kaid asked, sounding confused.

“Sorry. I guess that one doesn't translate. A fallacy. A myth. Something most folks believe but is not true,” Joe stated, as his hand found a small stick on the ground. He carefully picked it up just to have something tactile to hold in the dark.

“Then why does everyone try to lose dogs by going into the water?”

“It only works if you have a really big body of water, like a river, lake, or ocean. Then you are not so much hiding your scent but making it harder for the pursuers to find the spot you left the water. Getting wet actually makes it easier for the dogs to track their prey. Once they leave the water, the smells that will drip off are typically more plentiful than the smells that flake off dry skin. Those drops will point out our trail.”

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“How do you know that?” the small man asked with a bit of awe in his voice. “I mean, it makes sense now that you say it, but I can’t believe everybody has got that wrong.”

“I trained dogs. I did scent work with my dog, Ripple. Picked up all sorts of weird facts from those classes. That one was one of my favorites. Another one was how to escape dogs. Dogs are faster, but generally, humans can run for longer. Obviously, it depends on the breed. Sled-dogs are built for distance, but they are not trackers. With my [Efferous Endurance], there is a very good chance that they won’t catch up as long as we keep moving.”

“Ok. It’s already getting a bit brighter,” the gnome stated, which caused Joe to realize he could now make out his hands in the dark. “As soon as you can see, we’ll cross this rough patch. But now I’m not sure what we should head for.”

“The idea still works if there is something bigger than a creek. A river or lake could hide our trail, just not a stream where we could move faster on dry ground than over slippery rocks.”

“We could get to the Andoo’ak River by sunset if we keep moving. That’s a big river. Would that work?”

“Yeah. It should,” he replied, able to make out Kaid for the first time in quite a while.

Joe looked into the distance and found that he could see the forest trunks backlit by the faint first blush of dawn. He stood and stretched. It had already been a long day so far. Joe expected it would only get more grueling as it went on. He tightened his pack straps and gave Kaid a nod.

The pair started slowly as the descending terrain was littered with moss-coated rocks. This area looked like a run-off during the rainy season. The soil had been washed away, leaving loose stones behind. Without a solid coating of dirt, the footing was terrible. Every step was either on sliding pebbles or tipping rocks. Joe picked his way down the hill, noting enviously how Kaid just slid across the uneven ground without any issues at all.

When they reached solid footing again, it was time to run. Kaid picked up the pace, and Joe followed. Their speed kept increasing until Kaid found the best speed that Joe could maintain. Joe had never been able to run much in his old life, but his new body seemed to know exactly how to do it. The pace they set was far faster than anything Joe could have done even before cancer weakened his body. He had never realized the satisfaction that could be found in just running. Surging through the woods, healthy and fit, was invigorating. He wanted to whoop, but he knew there could be guards somewhere out here looking for them.

Kaid made the journey look effortless for the first hour until Joe found himself closing on the gnome. Kaid had a higher Vigor, which allowed him to run for longer, but Joe had been dosing himself with [Efferous Endurance] whenever he felt his breathing start to become labored. Sharing the spell, the two managed to cover several miles.

By the time the sun was a good way up the sky, Joe found applying [Efferous Endurance] yielded smaller and smaller returns with each casting. It turned out the spell would not let you exert yourself indefinitely. Eventually, when the skill could not push back their weariness any further, they knew they had to find a spot to stop and take a rest.

Panting Joe asked about their options once they reached the river.

“Depends on where you want to go. Ternport is upstream. It’s small, but I know a lot of people up there who are good at keeping their mouths shut. Lot of smuggling goes in and out of Tern. Means folks are not big on talking to the kingdom’s marshals and such. Folks up there take teaching the value of privacy seriously. We don’t want to be on the receiving end of one of those lessons,” he added with an ominous undertone to his words.

“Yeah. I’ll pass on that one. I’m still too new to the world to drop myself into Mos Eisley and expect to survive it.”

Kaid raised an eyebrow at the unknown reference but seemed to get the gist of Joe’s thoughts anyway. “Downstream is Heron Reef. Much bigger port. Far more by the book. Getting a ship out of there could be pretty easy. The downside is there are good roads between Crowfield and the Reef. Good chance word of you being wanted will beat us there. It would be a gamble, but if we can get you aboard a ship, then you’d be able to get plenty of distance away from Groven and the Duke.”

“I like the idea of being far out of their reach, but a port feels like a dead end. If they are already there ahead of us, we could get trapped with nowhere to go but back into the arms of the guys on our trail.” Joe enjoyed the mental picture of a seaport full of tall ships, but he still did not like the idea of being pinned against the sea. “What’s across the river?” he asked.

“The last good option is Pheasants Crossing. It’s a big trading post where a bunch of caravan routes meet up. Pretty good place to get lost in the crowds. There would be lots of options for whichever direction you want to go.”

“I like the sound of that. Lots of roads and transportation for hire sounds perfect.”

“Okey doke,” the little man smirked. “The best way to cross would normally be the Varboro Bridge, but the guardhouse there surely has our wanted poster already. We’ll head down to one of the fords to get across the Andoo’ak and then loop back up to the trading post. Easy cheesy.”

Joe almost called out Kaid’s jinx, but it was already too late.

A trilling series of notes echoed through the trees around them. There was something unsettling about the music. Joe exhaled a large, shivering breath as a chill ran down his spine. His exhalation misted the air. The temperature around the two travelers had dropped to an arctic level.

They both caught a glimmer of movement among the trunks. There was a hint of stag-like horns riding atop a humanoid figure, but the piper was being elusive, hiding from plain sight as much as possible while still moving in a large ring around the pair.

When Joe tried to turn to follow the creature, he found that his legs would not move. Thick, icy moss had grown up out of nowhere, coating his legs from the shins downward, locking his feet in place.

“Aw crap,” the equally rooted knife-fighter swore. “This is why folks don’t like the fey, Joe.”