Chapter Four: A Dagger Strikes

“Seems the weather's calmed down a bit," Kistoph said happily, stretching his arms out. “When we leaving?”

For the last few days, Finneas’s friend had been observing the sky, checking to see if the dark grey clouds had dispensed. While it had stopped raining a few days previously, Cymon wasn’t eager yet to leave. Perhaps the Water Taper sensed something the two boys didn’t. Finneas didn’t mind. Spending time with the Natives was an eye-opener. He was eager to ask his guest what their backstories were. He was interested in how they lived, and why they choose such as lifestyle.

Finneas understood Cymon’s intention. The Taper was waiting for clear skies; a reassurance before they continued their journey. Eventually, after a few days, the sky had become clear. It was refreshing to see the light shades of blue, with the sun shining out its yellowy-orange rays. News of clear skies made Kistoph leap for joy. Kistoph didn’t even hide his displeasure of having to stay in the temple.

The group ate breakfast early on the day they were prepared to leave. One of the Natives had gone off hunting, bringing back a freshly caught rabbit. Since they were leaving that day, Suchir decided that Finneas, Kistoph, and Cymon should have the first servings. It was impossible to tell what the next time they’d have a hot cooked meal.

“It’s shame to see you go,” the old man remarked.

“I know,” Cymon responded, sounding remorseful, “but we have to go.”

“No need to apologise,” Suchir laughed. “I know you can’t keep Sebastos waiting. That man can be restless at times.”

“Tell me about it,” the Water Taper said somewhat sarcastically. Finneas wasn't sure what the undertones there were about.

The old man’s face quickly changed away from looking joyful, to appearing stern, as if to explain something important.

"My scouts say there's an unusually large number of guards patrolling the area," the man explained. "They say they're looking for something… or someone." Suchir glared at Finneas and Kistoph. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with us. We won’t rat you out, I can promise that. There is a temple on the other side of the valley. I think it best for you to stop there.”

"Thank you, we will. I think it might be a good idea to leave,” Cymon remarked. “The longer we wait, the longer we put you all in danger.”

“No fret, my friend,” Suchir continued. “We were living in danger long before you three arrived. I’m sure we’ll survive.”

“Then this is goodbye, I assume,” the Water Taper announced. The two embraced each other, hugging one last time.

After saying their farewell, the group proceeded to leave the temple. While Finneas was sad, he knew had to say goodbye to the Natives – they had treated him quite well – he knew eventually his group had to leave. Kistoph, on the other hand, appeared relieved. Finneas’s friend didn’t even bother thanking any of their hosts. Instead, he remained impatiently waiting at the temple’s entrance.

They spent the entire day journeying through the forest, only stopping once for a break. Cymon insisted they continued trekking, walking enough extra distance to make up for lost time. Kistoph groaned, but everyone ignored him. Finneas was hoping his friend would cheer up now they’d left the temple. Cymon’s presence probably didn’t help matters. Kistoph seemed to take offence to a Native ordering him about. As for Finneas, he didn’t mind. If it wasn’t for Cymon they’d probably get lost.

The sky began to darken. It wasn't until everything was pitch-black that Cymon decided it was best to stop and set up camp. Although Kistoph claimed there were no guards around to catch them, the Water Taper insisted they made the fire as small as possible, just in case. Yet again, Kistoph groaned. The boy remained in a bad mood for the rest of the night.

Finneas couldn’t sleep. While everyone else had drifted off to sleep, he struggled. Having given up, he sat beside the fireplace, poking the small ambers with a stick. As was expected, the sky had cleared up; for the first time in many days. In a small opening between the trees, Finneas could see the night sky, with both the major and minor moons glimmering some light. Quite a few stars were visible. he recognised most of them. He use to remember all the star constellation names, but he’d not practised recounting them in a very long time. He could only remember the odd name; the club-man, the tree, and the knight's helmet, just to name a few.

“Can’t sleep?” Finneas asked. It was difficult to explain. However, he could feel the presence of something, or someone, nearby. “I can’t either.”

"Sometimes it's best for you to close your eyes, and try thinking of nothing," Cymon responded. The older sat down beside him. The Water Taper moved his hand towards the fire, palms forward.

“Easy for you to say,” Finneas said. He didn’t mean to sound sarcastic, but at least the Water Taper wasn't taken back by his comment. "Everything that's happened the past few days, I'm thinking of too many things."

“Wait till you get to Rivetia City,” the Water Taper remarked. “That’ll surely make your head spin. The place is a sight to be seen.”

"Is it... beautiful?" Finneas tried his best not to sound romantic or something, but all he'd seen in his life was worn down buildings and crumbled ancient temples. Finneas had never experienced a truly vibrant city. Not even Angleum could compare to Rivetia from the sounds of it.

“Stunning,” he said simply. “Stunning in all its glory. It might be ancient, but we’ve not forgotten our history. We’ve not allowed our buildings to fall into desolate.”

“I can’t wait too-“

Before Finneas could finish his statement, Cymon lifted his finger to his mouth signalling to the boy to be quiet. The Water Taper looked left and right, making a glance of his surroundings. Finneas didn’t need telling; someone was out there.

Cymon quietly tiptoed towards some shrubs. Finneas remain still, half-frightened of what could be out there. Finneas heard shuffling noises, the sound of something stumping on leaves. Whatever it was, the thing now knew Finneas and Cymon were aware of it. It was moving backwards, in an attempt to run away. The Water Taper suddenly leapt forward, grabbing what seemed to be a wrist. He dragged whatever was hiding towards them. It was the Native boy Finneas had met back in the temple.

“I’m sorry,” he began pleading. “Don’t make me return. Please…”

Finneas expected the boy to attempt to break out of the Water Taper’s firm grip. Yet Lochen seemed defeated. He’d been caught.

“Backtracking might be a hassle, especially with all the guards patrolling,” Cymon spoke, although it was unclear who he was speaking to. Perhaps he was thinking aloud. "There's a town nearby. Two days, I would guess. I can leave the boy there."

“You’re not thinking about abandoning me?” Lochen seemed panicked. “You’re going to the Riverlands. I want to go there too. I can help. I’ve money I can give you.”

“This isn’t a paid service,” the Water Taper explain, his voice stern and serious. “We’ve got an important task to complete. You’ll simply slow us down.”

Lochen seemed offended by that. For a moment it seemed he was going to punch Cymon in the face. Although the Native boy seemed to have decided against that, he was still red with anger.

“No I won’t!” he complained. “You,” Lochen pointed to Finneas. “You understand, right.”

“I don’t-“

“Finneas agrees with me,” Cymon cut in, stopping Finneas from saying anything. “Either you go back to the temple, or I’ll have to leave in the next town we come across.”

Lochen didn’t bother replying. The boy seemed as if he’d accepted his fate. By this point, Kistoph had awoken. His friend groaned the moment he saw Lochen. It was clear the he wasn't happy about being wakened, especially in the middle of the night. Cymon told everyone to go to sleep, insisting they were going to be getting up early the next day. Defeated, the three boys did as they were instructed.

Finneas awoke the next day. To his surprise, the Native boy was still there. Lochen seemed persistent. After a quick meal, they continued their journey. Walking for most of the day, the group stopped just before the edge of a valley. They set up camp and stayed there for the night. They continued the next morning journeying down the valley.

It became quite apparent that walking downhill was harder than walking upwards. Although Finneas found walking uphill used more energy, he soon discovered it was more difficult having to navigate down a steep and narrow pathway that seeming went for miles, winding back and forth like a snake. On a few occasions, Finneas was fearful he’d slip over and fall butt-first onto the ground. It, of course, wouldn’t hurt him – the soft dirt served as a natural cushion. Occasionally the pathway seemed to disappear completely, making it even more difficult. Finneas found it easy to grab hold of a tree branch whenever he felt he was about to slip. That usually helped, mostly. Finneas was starting to question Cymon’s decision. Although not as verbally as his friend – Kistoph made his opinions quite apparent – he wondered whether it would've been better to travel eastward down the hill and then up another side where the slope wasn't as steep. There mightn’t have been any clear pathway for them to follow, Finneas somewhat understood the Water Taper’s logic. Crossing the valley was the quickest route, even if it meant travelling downwards before travelling upwards again. Despite Cymon’s explanation, groaning could be heard for miles coming out of Kistoph.

Lochen followed from behind, barely muttering a word, even when the group stopped to have a snack and a break. Occasionally, Finneas tried striking up a conversation with the Native boy, but Lochen politely ignored every attempt. He was pretty sure Lochen wasn’t happy at the prospect of having to return to the temple. It seemed strange how Lochen was still travelling with them. Wouldn't it be quicker to return to the temple than to continue their journey, Finneas pondered to himself. Cymon, however, had made it clear they were leaving Lochen in the first town they arrived in. The Water Taper said he had contacts that can take Lochen back to the temple. It was quicker that way, Cymon had insisted.

It was around midday when they’d reached the bottom of the valley. A small stream slithered through, travelling westward towards the open sea. Finneas pondered whether the creek was once bigger, many years ago. He heard how rivers helped carve valleys. He couldn’t remember where he heard that; probably from one of Teller’s books. Located at the bottom of the valley was an old long-abandoned settlement. Ruined stone houses were built into the valley’s side. Finneas also remembered reading how Estmere’s earliest towns were constructed down valleys like this. The stone buildings were probably small temples, similar to the grander temple they’d spent the last week or so in. There most likely used to be more buildings around the place, built of wooden materials, but had long rotten away. The small temple complex was the only proof anyone had ever lived there. Finneas imagined what it would’ve been like to live here, far back in the ancient past, but he found it incredibly difficult. It was a different world. Even Natives probably would find it strange.

By the time they’d reached the bottom it was still morning. There was still plenty of time left to reach the top of the valley’s other side. Kistoph lamented, asking why they couldn’t stay in one of the stone buildings for the night. Cymon, however, insisted they kept moving. They stop briefly to get something to eat, before continuing their trek upwards.

They had reached halfway up the bank when nightfall arrived. Finding a flat area, the group stopped to rest. Like the previous night, Cymon insisted they kept the fire as small as possible; a faint ember. While they were surely far away from any guards, the Water Taper still didn’t want to risk it. Again, Kistoph groaned. His moaning did nothing to change Cymon’s opinion, however.

This time around, Finneas quickly drifted to sleep. He dreamt he was back in Angleum, hanging out with his brother. The dream was strange. It was as if he'd never embarked on the journey. Maybe the real world was a dream, Finneas wondered. Perhaps he was dreaming about leaving Angleum. Before Finneas could think any else, he was awakened. Kistoph was shaking him.

“Come on Finn!” his friend loudly announced. “Time to get up. No point laying in… well… the ground… or something…”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

After a quick meal – a slice of somewhat stale bread – the group continued trekking upwards. By midday, they had reached the top of the valley's bank. Finneas was relieved to walk on a flat surface. It was around late afternoon they reached the temple Suchir told them about.

Unlike the other temple, this one was in a far worse state. Most of the building was in ruin, leaving only the foyer accessible. What pathway which would have led to the temple’s main room had been destroyed. Rubble and debris cover where it should have been, blocking any access. It was quite evident the temple had been left abandoned for many thousand years. The floor was covered with dirt – the brick tilling barely visible. Cobwebs covered the walls and ceilings, creating an eerie atmosphere.

“Seems quite homely,” Kistoph joked cynically. Finneas’s friend began wandering around the room, inspecting one of a few surviving wall facades.

“It will have to do,” Cymon remarked. "Remember though, we're only staying here one night if need be. So don't get comfortable."

“I’ll make sure not to get cosy,” Finneas commented. He wasn’t sure if anyone took notice of what he said. “Not as good as that other temple. This one seems… abused…”

“Both temples were abused,” Lochen mentioned from behind. While Finneas heard what the boy had said, no one else seemed to have. “One by people; the other by nature. But at least we’re staying here only one night. Staying any longer would make me go bonkers.”

Because the temple was enclosed, a reasonably sized fire could be built without drawing the attention of guards. Cymon tasked the three boys to gather firewood from the surrounding area. Having gathered enough branches, the Water Taper piled the sticks together in the centre of the room. Using a dagger and some flint, Cymon lit a fire.

While cooking beans over the fireplace, each took turns telling old folk stories. Finneas decided to go first. He began reciting a story he'd heard some older kids tell him years ago. The tale was about an old cruel matron who tricked a group of orphans into doing her dirty work. Finneas was about to mention the part where the kids decided to rebel when an alarm was heard. Far off somewhere, a person had blown a trumpet. Finneas froze midsentence. He knew what that sound was. Guards were nearby, perhaps even heading in their direction.

“Stay here,” Cymon said, steadily, as if nothing was about to occur. “Don’t move. Take this for protection. Hopefully, you know how to use it.”

The Water Taper handed Finneas a dagger. Finneas was unsure how to react. He had never held a sword or a dagger before. He was baffled. Why had Cymon given him the dagger? The Water Taper didn’t give it to one of the other two boys. Kistoph was better at fighting things. His friend always came to his defence whenever he found himself in a tight spot. Kistoph was better at throwing punches and taking them as well. Finneas, however, would prefer to avoid violence; talk things out. Somehow, Finneas knew he wouldn’t be able to talk himself out this time. Cymon left, not saying anything else.

The three boys remained there in silence, eagerly waiting for something to happen. The silence made things worse. Although they weren’t forced to, neither of them moved an inch. Lochen was shaking, shuddering whenever it seemed as if someone was nearby. Finneas stood as still as he could, the dagger still in his hand. For a moment, Finneas thought he would drop the blade. However, he kept a firm grip on the hilt. Although scared, he tried his best to disguise his fear. Since he was the one holding the weapon, Finneas thought it was best he remained strong for the rest of the group.

The dagger felt lighter than expected. Although he’d never held a dagger before, Finneas always imagine the weapon to feel heavier. It felt as if the dagger had been made for him; as if an extension of his arm. The metal and flesh joined as one. While its blade may not have been the sharpest, it would certainly be able to pierce into someone’s body. Despite the rush of power, Finneas wasn’t certain he wanted to wield the weapon. He’d preferred his Kistoph held it. He thought about handing the dagger to his friend but decided against it. Although seeming calm, he could tell his friend was just as scared. It was strange since Kistoph was the most confident person he knew. Furthermore, Finneas was terrified that moving would cause enough noise it would notify any nearby guards of their position. It was safer to remain still, waiting for Cymon to return.

“You hear that?” a voice suddenly spoke from outside. It wasn’t Cymon. “Thought I heard footsteps.”

“It’s just your imagination,” another voice said, this one slightly deeper. Whoever they were, the voices were probably a few years older than Finneas and Kistoph. Their accents sounded as if they weren't from around there. Probably recruits from the Imperial Capital. Young men far from home. "Focus on the task. We're looking for that Native, nothing more."

“Okay, okay,” the first voice said. He didn’t sound convinced. “I’m sure I heard something. Could be those kids we were told about. Finnian, Kristen, or whatever these people name their urchins.”

"Those kids are long gone," the second voice replied. "Probably drowned someplace. We're only being sent out to look just to keep us busy, I’m sure.”

“If you say so.”

“You should check that temple. Remember what happened yesterday? We don’t want to repeat that all again.”

“Those Natives had it coming,” the first voice said. “We did the right thing. They won’t be bothering us again. Butchered them like real good.”

Finneas glanced at Lochen’s face. Realising his family had been killed, the Native boy's fist was clenching. For a moment, Finneas thought Lochen would charge out and kill the guards. However, Lochen remained still.

“So,” the second voice continued, “you’ll look in there. Just a simple check, not like the other temple, I’m sure.”

“Alright.”

The footsteps were getting closer. Finneas began shaking, not sure what to do. Any second now, he pondered. He didn’t know if he had it in him. He wasn’t sure if he could end someone’s life. He began to wish he’d given the dagger to Kistoph.

The guard strode through the entranceway, his boots stomping. The young man probably thought the room to be empty. Instead, he found the three boys, each frightened with terror. The moment he realised the boys’ presence, he yelled.

“Hey! These the kids?”

For a moment, Finneas thought about charging toward the guard. Pushing the young man against the wall might knock him out for a bit, and give him and his friends the chance to escape. Hopefully, the other guard wouldn't outrun them. One thing for certain, Finneas wasn’t ready to attack.

“Coming! Let me see,” the other guard yelled from outside. More boots shuffled through leaves.

“Attack him!” Finneas heard Lochen yell.

Finneas wanted to do something. Yet he stood there, steady as a rock. He wanted to move, but couldn’t. Lochen seemed frustrated. His hands launched towards the dagger, trying to pinch it from Finneas. The blade fell to the temple’s floor, its blunt metal jingling as it hit the stone pavement. Lochen grabbed the dropped dagger. The Native boy then charged toward the guard. This caught the young man unprepared. Everything occurred so fast, that no one had time to think or react. The blade managed to break through the guard's leather armour, piercing into his hip. The guard froze for a brief moment. In shock, the guard dropped his weapon, a lance – a common weapon for soldiers.

The other guard was outside the entranceway. He leapt towards Lochen, attempting to take the Native boy out. Something deep down inside made Finneas lose any nerves. He had to protect the other boy. Although he didn’t have a weapon, he charged foolishly toward the guard. Using all the might he could muster, he slammed into the other young man. It might not have hurt the guard, but it did throw him off balance. The young man fell over, giving the three boys the chance to escape. Finneas didn't look back. He kept running until he felt it was safe to stop.

He found a spot to stop and rest. Both Kistoph and Lochen did the same. Finneas was breathing so heavily, that he couldn't speak at first. He also needed to get his thoughts together; work out what he was going to say next. For the first time, he felt angry. He wanted to punch Lochen in the face.

“That guard… he didn’t need… die…” Finneas spoke in a somewhat broken manner. “Why… did… kill him?”

“They killed…” Lochen began saying. “Killed my family. They killed… my kin. What else did… did you expect.”

He too was breathing heavily. Kistoph remained quiet. He was usually the confrontational one, not Finneas. Anger was clouding his judgement; Finneas simply want to vent his annoyance. He expected his friend to get involved, perhaps side with him. Yet his friend remained mute.

“That’s no excuse,” Finneas was beginning to get his breath back. “I had it all under control.”

“You did?” Lochen escalated his voice. “You were doing chaff!”

“At least I wasn’t taking people’s lives.”

“Too scared to spill some blood?”

Finneas clenched his fist. He was filled with fiery anger, something he'd never felt before. But before he could punch Lochen in the face, talking was heard. It was the guard Finneas had slammed his body against. The man was looking for them. Finneas didn’t have enough time to cither what the guard was yelling. Finneas grabbed his friend’s wrist, dragging him forward. They continued running. Finneas wasn’t concerned whether Lochen was following behind him. He was hoping the Native boy would leave them alone – go back to his temple or something.

The sun was beginning to rise. Finneas was unaware of how long they'd been running. He guessed a few hours. It'd become apparent no one was chasing them now. It was safe to stop. Finneas fell to the ground. The realisation that he hadn’t eaten anything for quite some time made his stomach ache. Foolishly, he’d left his backpack back at the temple. Amidst the chaos, Finneas didn't have the chance to even think about grabbing it.

A sudden realisation dawned on Finneas. The photograph of his mother was in that bag; the only link he had to her memory.

“We got to go back!” he yelped.

“Too risky,” Kistoph remarked. “They’ll catch us, surely.”

“But my bag…”

Finneas was about to dash back for the backpack when his friend grabbed hold of him. Kistoph pulled him back to their hiding position.

“Things happened too fast,” his friend explained. “I forgot to pick up my pack too.”

Finneas stopped for a moment, to gather his voice. He quickly realised his friend was right. It was too dangerous.

“Any idea where the nearest town?” Finneas stared at Lochen. The Native boy seemed to be offended at the notion they’d ask for help. “We don’t know the place. But you do?”

“I’ve been out and about a few times,” Lochen explained. “But why should I help?”

“Help?”

“I’m no slave,” Lochen spat. “I’m no guide, no servant.”

“We weren’t saying-”

“I know what you two thinks of me,” Lochen said angrily, cutting Finneas off midsentence. "Your friend hasn't made an illusion. You might be better at hiding it, but I know you think ill of me.”

“I didn’t say-“

Before he could finish his statement, Kistoph interjected.

"I've the map," he said, drawing a piece of paper out of his pocket. "Grabbed hold of it back in the temple," his friend explained. "Thought I'd get a good look at it." Kistoph placed the map on the ground. “I think we’re here.” He moved his finger a few inches. “Here’s the nearest village. We must be close.”

Kistoph was sadly incorrect. The town wasn't close. The group took three days at least to reach it. They did, however, managed to get there eventually. The sun was beginning to set when they arrived at the village. They needed to find a place to rest, or risk having to sleep on the streets for the night. The small hamlet was a far cry from the bustling streets Finneas was used to. There were only a few buildings – twenty or so at the most. Built mainly from wood, most of the houses look like they’d seen better days. Even the local tavern seemed derelict.

Kistoph was able to convince the innkeeper to let them sleep in the common room. The place barely had visitors, so the man seemed all right with them staying. With the small number of crowns they had left, the boys were able to buy some bread. They ate in silence.

Finneas woke the next day. Sleeping on one of the common couches, he stretched his arms. He looked around, trying to find his friends. He was alone. He stood up and made his way towards the tavern’s main room. His friend was sitting at one of the tables. He was reading a newspaper. Finneas noticed the paper was a month or so old. Still, they didn’t get much news anyway, so it didn’t matter if it was out of date.

“Where’s… er… what’s his name again.”

“Lochen, I think,” his friend answered. “And where’s he? I couldn’t care. I think he mentioned he was going to the local temple. Said there was one nearby. Why even bother with that kid? Deadweight I say."

Yet again, Finneas ignored his friend. Although he didn’t trust Lochen, he knew quite well the Native boy was their best guide. Finneas hoped the other boy would agree to cooperate at least. Perhaps with Lochen’s help, they could find Cymon again.

The temple was nearby, just as Kistoph had described. Obscured by trees, the building was similar to all the other temples Finneas had seen. The ancient monument was smaller, yet still quite majestic. Finneas quietly entered the temple. Lochen was the only person there. Lochen knelt in front of a structure. Finneas was familiar with the symbol. The Peacock was the traditional representation of the Maker.

Lochen was attempting to chant something in the native language, stumbling over his words. It was apparent Lochen barely understood his own language. Even Finneas, who barely knew anything of the Native tongue, recognised the mistakes. He decided best not to correct Lochen’s mistake. “Damnit!” the Native boy suddenly yelled, not realising someone was behind him. “Whoever’s up there, please don’t judge me,” Lochen continued. “I’m not perfect. I know I’m tempted by the destroyer. It’s not my…”

“You talk to the Maker often?” Finneas decided to finally say. He didn’t intend to interrupt.

“You mock me?” Lochen said abruptly.

“No.”

“Go worship your own gods.”

“The Maker is my God.”

Lochen laughed.

“Typical free folks,” he responded bitterly. “The invaders come and take our lands, steal our idols. Our God was only meant for us, not you.” Lochen stood up and faced Finneas, his face red with tears. He’d been praying for hours, it seemed. Yet, from what Finneas could tell, it was in vain. It didn’t seem to make the Native boy happy. “I thought you were different,” Lochen remarked. “Different from your friend. Looks like I’m wrong.”

“I’m not the bad guy,” Finneas decided to say.

He didn’t bother hearing Lochen’s response. Leaving the temple, he carefully closed the large metal door. It was a bit of a struggle, but Finneas was eventually able to do it. He walked down a gravelly stone pavement.

Finneas felt a gentle breeze. The smell of salty seawater reminded him of home. He wondered how his brother was coping. He starting to have second thoughts. Maybe running away wasn't a good idea after all. Perhaps it was best to turn back now. He contemplated what he was going to tell the matron. How was he going to explain his sudden disappearance?

The sight of the two soldiers at first threw Finneas off-guard. He didn't expect to see them here, in this village. The two men were older than the guards the three boys encountered back in the abandoned temple. Mid-twenties perhaps.

“Hey!” one of the guards remarked, noticing Finneas sneak by. “Isn’t that one the kids the general told us to look out for? One those runaways, they say?”

Finneas quickly kept moving, pretending as if nothing had occurred. He lifted his hood over his head, to at least obscure his face. Hopefully, it didn't seem suspicious.

“Curly kid, aged thirteen or so,” the other guard read from a piece of paper; obviously a description of Finneas, just in case he was spotted. “Blue eyes, freckles… damn… could be anyone. You sure?”

“I’m sure I’m sure,” the first guard continued insisting. "Hey, kid!"

The moment it dawned on the guard who Finneas was, the boy began to run away. His quick dash suddenly became a sprint. Although he wasn’t certain the guards were following him, Finneas knew he had to find his friend. They had to get out of the village; and quickly. However, Finneas wasn’t looking where he was running. Much like back in the forest, his feet struck a large rock. This threw him off. Unlike before, he was unable to regain his balance. Finneas crashed headfirst onto the ground. As Finneas pulled himself up, the two guards were moving steadily towards him. Breathing deeply, he knew he was caught and had no hope of escape.