Night fell shortly after I’d settled into my rudimentary camp. All it was was a bed of leaves and a hole for me to do my business in, but it was better than nothing. As much as I wanted to start a fire, it would be unwise to do anything that could alert my target that there was someone else in these woods. Moving in the dark wouldn’t be ideal until I’d found my target’s trail. I’d search the woods in the light of day, for now, until I could find a trail to follow. The problem was the size of this forest.

It was immense, and I had no idea in which direction he would have headed. Without a horse, he couldn’t have made it too far, though. He would most probably be moving every night to avoid being found, but he’d still want to secure a water source.

He’d also want to avoid going too close to the outskirts, and would stay within one large, central area. By my best guess, he would find a large river and move up and down it periodically. That night, I checked to see if there were any wisps of smoke just in case, but unfortunately, he was smart enough not to start a fire.

Soon enough, the sun rose, and I started a day of searching. I was really only looking for a few things: the remnants of an encampment, cut down trees, or any sort of physical tracks, like footprints.

Of course, there would be remnants of other people’s treks out into the woods, like hunters or lumberjacks, but if I went deeper in I doubted there would be many venturing that far in aside from my fugitive.Fortunately, Kenji had thoroughly trained me in the art of tracking.

The first day, I found nothing. There was much more forest to search, though, so I kept moving. The second day, my provisions were slimming down, so I killed some animal that looked relatively bird-like and cooked it by heating up stones with a small fire underneath to avoid putting up too much smoke.

The third day, I found water. Not a lake or pond, but a River. Standing from the tops of the trees, even though the canopy obscured my view going past a few miles, I could tell that this river went far. This forest was absolutely massive. It could still see, southwards, the exit towards Pinehurst, and another in the distance towards the east, but north and west it stretched on further than I could see.

The fourth day, I ventured even deeper, following the river. Finally, I found traces of human life, about half a mile off from the river. Wood had been broken down and collected into a pile, but I guessed that it had probably been some sort of lean-to. The dirt was disturbed in one area, and after digging it up with a stick, my assumption was verified. Decently fresh human waste. He hadn’t been here long ago, maybe a couple of days back. His attempt to cover his trail was laughable, though. Had he been chased out somehow? I didn’t notice any signs of an altercation, but there could have been some sort of animal nearby that forced him to rush away.

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Still, I’d caught his scent. Like a bloodhound, I could now trace him back to wherever he was hiding. Come out, come out, bitch! Papa needs a payday!

I spent the next couple of days slowly following his trail. After finding two more of his camps, all deconstructed to equally low standards, I noticed that he moved in a pattern in accordance with the river. This made it easier to find him. Instead of moving from camp to camp slowly, with him most certainly moving faster than me, I could make an assumption of where he’d be headed further down the line and wait him out. And so I did.

It didn’t take long for him to show up. A couple of days of hunting and lounging by the river, and bathing for the first time in god knows how long, and my money had basically walked right up to me. I could hear grunting and wood being cut and moved not too far off from where I’d stationed myself.

Get ready to get into my wallet! I approached slowly and carefully, stalking him from the trees, until he finally entered my sight. He was a pretty big, muscular guy. His hair was gray, so I assumed he was probably older. Maybe in his fifties? His clothes were tattered, and his leather armor wasn’t in much of a better condition. On the ground next to him was a chipped sword, the tip broken off. He was fiddling with some dry sinew, presumably from an animal he’d killed, and branches. Was he trying to fashion some sort of bow?

Well, he was distracted enough. It was time to strike.

He was wanted alive, so I decided I’d go for his hamstrings to break his movement. It was inconvenient, since I’d have to carry him the way back, and would have to treat his wounds if they got infected or bled too much, but what else could I do?

So I struck. I drew my sword and launched myself forward with a bit of power, closing the gap quickly. I struck down on his hamstrings.

“Clang!”

Um, that’s not the sound of flesh being cut. I retreated twenty feet and held my guard. He was holding his rusted, chipped sword behind him. Without even looking, he’d blocked my attack. He turned his head ever so slightly, revealing one of his eyes. He had a sharp, menacing look.

He spoke in a gruff, low voice.

“Who the fuck are you?”