Chapter 11 – Hunted

The sound of heavy, panicked footfall made dull thuds on the forest floor. Thin foliage snapped and cracked under the barrage, roots and stumps caught on boot soles, echoing small rubbery snaps into the thin night air.

The brush seemed to have grown thicker as Art ran. He was well and truly lost now. That was no longer something to be feared, it was an issue to be dealt with should he survive his real problem. He no longer wanted to be found.

There was no soul in those woods who knew of him that would let him leave alive.

Question after question ran through his head as he ran himself beyond exhaustion.

Why was Morrigan so determined to end his life? She had saved it barely a week ago, but now she hunted him like an animal.

Art knew he had to keep running no matter what questions or wild thoughts burst into his mind.

The shouts and bellows he had first heard after that harrowing scream were still behind him, they grew closer with every minute that passed. Some echoed from either side in response to the others, calling and coordinating with cold voices.

The fear was still real, more real than ever. There could be no respite for him in the seemingly everlasting nighttime as every breath drew visions of grotesque fangs leering over his neck.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

His feet continued to thud against the hardened ground. Step after step, until suddenly the ground fell away.

The near-pitch-black darkness and dim moonlight did an excellent job of obscuring the details of the terrain before him. Combined with a terror-fuelled sprint for his life, the poor visibility had let him cannonball straight into the open mouth of a cavern.

The crack in the forest floor was settled into the side of a small hill, perhaps three or four meters in height. Art had scrambled over so many of them in the preceding hours that he had paid barely any thought to the subtle shadow where the ground should have been.

Grunts and moans escaped his lips as he tumbled deep down underground, falling and rolling so far that what little visibility the moonlight offered was soon gone.

Every thud and smack against the steep slope knocked the wind out of his lungs and left him gasping in mouthfuls of kicked-up sediment and dirt until finally, he settled to a stop at the very bottom.

Even a moment of rest was too much. Morrigan and her enthralled men were still chasing his trail. They would undoubtedly come right over the spot where he had fallen, though, there was no guarantee that they would notice it. Perhaps they would be so rabid in their pursuit that they would simply breeze right over it.

No, the risk is still too great. I have to keep moving.

And so he did.

Art clambered to his feet, letting out a gasp of pain as he finally noticed the injury had befallen his ankle during the harsh descent.

He looked up at the slope.

It was far too steep to climb even in good health, let alone his current state.

He looked back to the shadowy passage that led deeper into the cavern, then made his choice.

Gods, please don’t let this be a dead end.