With barely a thought, Garinor leaped into the eastern section of the woods. The rich green canopy swallowed him quickly and he bolted forward trying to clear some distance between himself and the road. His bare feet thundered on broken rocks and fallen brambles and it wasn’t long at all before he felt scuffed from head to toe. It was hard not crying out in pain as unseen objects pierced into his unprotected body. But he knew he needed to keep quiet.
That thought slowed him suddenly. If he was running rampant through the forest, surely he was making enough noise to alert any pursuers. He forced himself to slow down, afraid that even the pounding of his heart could give him away. He kept his eyes trained downward as he looked for soft patches of soil onto which he could quietly leap.
Garinor’s now-quiet progress allowed his ears to strain for other sounds. He could hear leaves rustling now and then, but he didn’t know if it was the archers or wind or wildlife. It could even have been his imagination, fed by fear.
Step by step, he made his way further to the east. He crept carefully along, trying to crouch as he went. He glanced up and looked around once in a while, and on one fateful lifting of his head, a breeze parted the leaves, and the rising sun pierced through and stunned his eyes. He missed his next step.
Some of the rustling in the distance seemed to pause as Garinor struggled to right himself as quickly and silently as he could. But he had been spotted. He knew it immediately when a whizzing sound burned near his ear and an arrow appeared in the ground ahead of him.
Throwing caution to the wind, he bolted.
The scenery blurred around him as he went, bouncing up and down as he pounced over fallen debris on the ground. Light stung his eyes occasionally as the sun peeked randomly through the trees. Tears lined his eyes as he was battered by branches along the way. The occasional thunk of an arrow hitting a tree spurred him to greater speeds.
Soon his chest was burning from the exertion. He had never been all that athletic, though he felt he could hold his own if he needed to. This was a completely different experience, though. The relentless pursuer gasped and dashed after him, while strange animal cries echoed through the air. He realized with a shock that the archer was calling for help. Soon he would need to outrun several attackers, not just this one.
The arrows, however, had trouble finding their mark. The glittering light that stunned Garinor also seemed to be hindering the archer’s aim. Thankful for the help, he kept running forward, leading the way into the light as fast as his tiring legs could carry him.
It wasn’t much later that a loud, constant rustling sound echoed from ahead of him. It drowned out the pursuit behind him and he feared that he would not be able to tell if he was pulling away or not. Still, he knew that to stop was certain death. He needed to push onward.
All at once the forest gave way and the sun beamed down on him gloriously. The brilliance blinded him completely and he stumbled, falling to the ground in a rolling heap. His body flipped over and over and then he had the sensation that he was falling, all the while the loud rustling sound grew even louder.
It wasn’t until he found himself submersed in water that Garinor realized he had just fallen into the River Cross. How could he have forgotten that it was so near? He had spent most the past week coming all the way to splash in the water with his friends. Now the water was pulling hard at him, tugging at him, desperately trying to bring him under.
As he struggled to float, Garinor’s eyes swept across the upper bank from which he had fallen. He could see two figures there, running in his direction, and he realized that they were his pursuers. There had been more than one! It was then he remembered that three arrows had pierced the guard’s chest, and he realized he had been foolish to forget that. As the water kept dragging him away, he reconsidered his thoughts. If he had known that more than one person was after him, he probably would have convinced himself that he couldn’t get away and he wouldn’t have made it out of the forest.
Water swept up his nose at that moment and he coughed and sputtered, trying to keep his head aloft. He recovered and swam his arms around, hoping he could glimpse the hunters again, but they were gone. He didn’t know if that was good or bad.
The river was at a particularly speedy descent and Garinor’s attention became wholly focused on staying afloat. But he knew that he was now getting closer and closer to his home, to the start of this terrible journey. It felt very wrong. He remembered his mother’s tears and her resignation that he needed to go. To return home only hours later would probably be a really bad thing. She would probably scold him for leaving the guard and send him right back out to go to the king.
But if he didn’t return home then he would be on his own. And even then, should he answer the king’s summons himself or try to find shelter and wait until the hunt had cooled down?
Time was running short. The river would slow down enough soon that he could swim to the bank and go off on his own, or he could continue to ride the water until he was back home.
If Garinor should leave the river and journey on his own, turn to page 27.
If Garinor should return home, turn to page 18.