Chapter 43 - Survival

What awaited him on the other side was a lush forest of deciduous trees dressed in clinging moss and rimmed with little shrubs at their roots. Many of the large oaks looked ancient and majestic, their thick outstretched branches crowned heavily with dark leaves and growing acorns. All of which was dressed further in a mystical ambiance by the gently falling snow. Small flakes of snow softly came down in lazy swirls while the moon peeked out playfully from among the sea of clouds above; adding to what felt like a fairytale atmosphere.

Frozen in place he stared in disbelief. It was a lot to take in all at once, the sudden change from a dark and gloomy arena to a beautiful winter forest was a shock to his senses. The soft moonlight burned at his eyes while the sharp chill of the forest air hurt his nose. But the discomfort was not enough to move him from his spot. Caught in complete awe, while his gut clenched at the gnawing fear that this was all a trick. This had to be a dream world, there was no other explanation. A beautiful and especially cruel one at that. Yet he had to wonder why they would tempt him with this Garden of Eden?

He could not let himself fall for this, any tiny bit of hope he dared feel was immediately squashed! At any moment Hana or Okotte would appear to shatter this dream, Hana would laugh at his foolishness and Okette would harp over how gullible he was. Both would drag him off to that dark and miserable world once again and he would be helpless to do anything about it. Because in the end, that was all that awaited him and those two delighted in reminding him of his misery and savored every chance they could get to put him in his place.

For a brief moment he considered this as a chance of freedom, he could run couldn't he? But for how long could he remain on the run from his caretakers? The thought of that tiny little tomb waiting for him back there was enough to bury any false hope that he could escape. A hand rubbed at his belly, remembering the fate that would befall him if his master so willed it. No, there was no use running, they did not need to catch him. All he could do was stop them from teasing him and drawing in a breath, he closed his eyes and braced himself. Waiting for someone or something to come and rob him of this dream.

Seconds ticked by and became minutes, yet nothing happened. All he could feel was the chill caress of the winter winds as it showered him in light snow. All he could hear was the soft creek of tree branches bowing to that same wind above his head. Yet no one came. Still he waited, giving a little shiver every time the breeze cut through his light leather armor. When he could no longer feel the tips of his ears he finally gave up and opened his eyes. Peering about expectantly, but search as he might the shadows around him held nothing.

Seeking answers he turned back to the doorway which on this side was no more than a swirl of magical fog contained within an archway of moss covered stones. Around it stood short shrubs with branches tipped in ice like barbs, these he carefully stepped through as he approached the door. Running his fingertips over the weathered stones he contemplated going back through the portal. Returning now would deprive his caretakers of their sadistic fun. Though he had to wonder if he should he go back? As if in answer to that unspoken question the fog suddenly dispersed, leaving the doorway empty and wiping away every last trace of magic!

"Oh" He whispered softly and sucked in a little gasp, slowly drawing his hand away. Was this place intentional after all? Golden eyes widening as he searched the forest once more in disbelief. He released that breath in one big puff of white and watched as it was quickly carried away. If this were indeed intentional then perhaps he shouldn't question it after all? For whatever the reason he was giving this absolutely amazing dream. There was still a little ball of fear sitting in the pit of his stomach but he found that he could ignore it more easily now.

There was nothing stopping him now, that thought alone was enough to invigorate him as he took the first tentative step towards the forest. Who was he to squander this opportunity? Yet every step was marred with uncertainty as he walked, how often he wished to run over soft grass and rolling hills? The stone floor of his room was so cold and unforgiving to his feet, no matter what he wrapped them in the cold always seeped through. Here though, through the soles in his boots he could still feel the cold of the ground but it differed greatly. There were dried leaves and snow that crunched with every step.

The, air as well, was filled with powerful scents that assaulted and overwhelmed his olfactory sense. Yet he only breathed in deeper, the smell of the forest and snow nurturing his soul. Coaxing it out of the wretched darkness of despair it had dwelled in for so long and giving in to the first taste of moonlight. To think there was a time he feared he'd forgotten what such things smelled like. The floor of memories through his senses stirred an energy deep within that smothered the remaining traces of fear and filled their empty spaces with tiny shreds of courage.

There was no holding back now and bouncing on the balls of his feet he took off into a brisk sprint! At first stiffened muscles ached and tight tendons stretched painfully but he only responded by picking up the pace. Feet pounding the moss covered ground with every stride while he rounded tree trunks and bounded over fallen logs. However the snow was unavoidable and it more often than not hid patches of ice beneath. Much like his body his balance was not as honed as it could have been and he often lost his footing when he hit some snow. Sometimes he tumbled ass over teakettle, other times he would catch himself by switching to all fours. As cumbersome as it was in human form.

All because he refused to let anything slow him down! Not the treacherous forest floor, not the burning in his lungs and not the strain of flesh being pushed to the limit. Fast as he could, hard as his legs would carry him, he raced through the forest. Barreling through low branches and leaping over snow covered obstacles, the exhilaration was as refreshing as the cold air on his hot skin. Running away from nothing and yet everything at the same time.

How long he managed to keep this up he wasn't quite sure, but sometime later his legs finally gave out and he fell sliding into the snow over the crest of a small hill. Coming to rest on the bank of a half frozen stream where he lay panting in a heap with a grin on his face. Limbs felt like lead and his heart was pounding so hard that it felt like it might just try to burst from his heaving chest, but he was happy. As strange a feeling as it was, from this simple act alone he was happy. If only there was no end to this. When he could finally move he rolled over onto his hands and knees and crept to the edge of the stream. Drinking deeply from the ice cold water to sooth his sore throat and fill his stomach with much needed fluid after breaking this hard of a sweat.

Once his thirst was quenched, he washed his hands and face before retreating back into the shore and settling on a large stone to take stock of himself. By some miracle he managed to not lose anything during that breakneck run, his meager weapons and armor were all still in place. Nor did he take much damage from haphazardly charging through ice and branches, save for a few scratches and the palms of his hands rubbed raw from running on them. Gazing down at his reddened fingers he thoughtfully remanence over how he would have just transformed into his true form in the past.

Could he still transform? That was a question he had pondered before on a few occasions. However it was an answer he did not dare go looking for in all truth. Okotte had already made it clear she didn't like dogs and transforming into one would have only infuriated her all the more. Out of his two caretakers she was by far the least patient and most brutal to him. He did not need to give that crazed woman anymore reason to torture him! Thus he had little desire to experiment.

She wasn't here however, neither one was here to stop him from finding his answers. Though there was the risk that they would find out later, none the less this presented him with a golden opportunity to explore what remained of his power in peace. Licking his lips he settled himself into a cross legged sit and closed his eyes. With a soft exhale he let the last traces of adrenalin left from his run ebb away, while he brought himself to a calm and almost meditative state. Clearing his internal sense of everything external, and reaching for the tiniest trickle of power within.

It didn't take long for a response, little by little he felt gentle waves of warmth rippling through him. Pieces of his aura unfurled but they felt weak and fragile, as if the slightest breeze would scatter it like sakura petals on the wind. He searched for any sign of his former transformation, any trace of his former self deep within all the same.

In the past simply envisioning himself down on all fours was enough to dismiss the spell that held his human form and trigger the transformation. But then again, his human shape was not his true form and switching from human to dog was as a simple matter. Sometimes that was a liability as there were instances where the change happened involuntarily. If he suffered a grave enough injury or fell severely ill he would lose control of his transformation and return to his canine body. His true form.

That was where the tables had turned for him unfortunately. Once he became an inugami his true form was of this human shape and not the dog's. In a moment of utter desperation his soul had possessed a body of a human, overtaking it and making it his own. Thus now it left the enigma of what became of that dog form. Very possibly, it could be gone as he had yet to find it anywhere amid his weakened magic. Try as he might, reaching one way or the other, he felt nothing of that old spark.

A sudden blast of cold wind shattered his concentration and dashed any hopes of continuing as a violent shiver ran through his body. Wrapping his arms around himself he silently cursed the fact that he did not think to bring a cloak with him! During that wild race through the forest his pumping blood kept him warm, but now that he had sat in one place for so long the cold was beginning to sink into his bones. To top it all off hunger was starting to gnaw at his stomach. Perhaps it was time to go home.

Sliding off the stone he made it only one pace before he stopped, freezing mid step while his thoughts crashed into a pile up in his head. Going back? The thought had sounded so natural and so ...correct. It frightened him a little at first, how just the idea of going back felt the same as going home. Reality however quickly sank in after that initial moment of fear, whether he should call it home or not right now was a moot point.

Rubbing his face he grumbled softly to himself, remembering that the portal was dispelled last he looked at it. That didn't mean it couldn't have been restored while he was off in the woods, in all truth he should go back and see for himself. Yet he had to wonder if it had been dispelled for a reason, did his master not want him to return too soon? It wasn't like he was told not to go this way after all. Although this meant he was left to his own devices in this strange world.

A chill wind blew through the branches of the forest canopy, their crackle sounding eerily inviting to him as he gazed off into the darkness. Part of him still nagged that he should return to check on the door, in case he was wrong and they were actually expecting him back. Was staying here on a hunch really worth risking the wrath of unhappy caregivers?

After puttering around with the idea of going back for a minute more, he squashed it. If they truly wanted him back, they would come get him. A night of pseudo freedom was worth the risk. "They certainly know where to find me." He mused to himself as he turned away and continued to trek deeper into the woods. The moon hanging high in the sky, lighting his way with her silvery glow. He'd make the most of this!

The cold was the most pressing matter he had to deal with. Being clad in thick grade cotton and light leather did offer some protection from the biting winds. But the winds were often relentless and he was still exposed to the elements where the outfit didn't cover. In the time of his former glory he would be able to spark a little of his demonic power, heating up his blood in the process. Which in turn kept him warm even during the worst of winter's bitter cold. This method did burn up youki in the process, which if left going for too long would exhaust him and leave him weakened. Back then however he had enough youki to burn for days on end without needing a break.

Then there was his twin furs, as they were not just for show. Manifested from his own power the furs could behave like tails or behave like a real fur cape. All he needed to do was gather it up and draw it around him. How he missed that fur, if only he had retained it then he'd not be collecting firewood right now. Which in truth was a far more challenging task than he first assumed as the light snow left everything around him damp. Forcing him to forage rather far and wide for kindling and logs dry enough to light.

The search yielded an unexpected reward for him when he managed to find some wild yams half buried in snow. Not the best dinner for him but certainly better than going hungry, nor could he be picky about anything else. Finding a majestic old tree with a cavity in it's trunk large enough for someone like him to be sheltered from the worst of the wind was sheer good luck. Carrying his meager but hard earned supplies he made camp within the hollow.

Using a few flat river stones to keep the fire wood raised off the snow covered ground, he carved a gouge in one piece of dry wood and used another sharpened to a point to try and coax a fire. After about thirty minutes of hard work and many bitter curses the fire finally came to life. Quickly he fed the tiny flame kindling and nurtured it into a crackling blaze that popped and sputtered on the stones. Rewarding him with warmth that worked the numbing chill out of his extremities and soothed the ache of his joints.

"Thank goodness for small miracles," He whispered softly as he worked a cramp out of his poor hand. " I'd rather not freeze to death on the first night I have away from captivity." Setting the yams near the crackling fire to roast, he settled back into the tree hollow and tried to get comfortable. Doing his best not to think of the vermin that were probably lurking in the crumbling wood around him. This was one of the little annoyances of roughing it.

Come mornings light he intended to search for some place better to shelter in, at least he hoped there was a better first place he thought of was a cave, but one of those was going to be a little difficult to find in a woodland. He also lacked the tools needed to build his own shelter so that was out of the question. If all else fails he could dig into a hillside and excavate a den, like he used to do when he was younger. It would be just like old times, when he traveled the open roads, sleeping in trees at night and hunting for small game to eat. Digging dens when he needed a decent shelter that would serve the purpose for a while. How many of those he left behind in his travels! With a soft smile he continued to reminisce as he turned the roasting yams.

The amount of firewood he gathered should have easily lasted more than a night, but it was still dark by the time the last log crumbled into glowing red ashes. Nibbling on the last of the yams, he silently peeked up past the lip of the large tree hollow. The moon shone bright against the indigo sky and as far as he could tell she had certainly traveled through the celestial heavens since the last time he saw her. Yet she still hadn't set nor was there any sign of a oncoming predawn.

Scooting back into his little shelter he flicked the remaining peel of the yam into the dying flame and pondered over this. There were places in the world he heard of where the night would last for days during the deepest part of winter. But he only needed to look around to see the green foliage under a thin coating of snow to confirm that winter had just barely begun here. If that even was the case here now that he thought about it, shouldn't the leaves have turned colors by now if winter was near?

Perhaps this strange discovery should have been a little more worrisome, but instead he found his curiosity hard to ignore. His gaze wandered to the wilds beyond, noticing how quiet it actually was. While he was running free he didn't remember passing any animals or even seeing a bird. Now he was paying more attention, the stillness and silence of the forest was almost eerie. There was certainly a mystery to this wood and if he wanted to unravel it then he'd best get moving. Staying here was not a good option, first he would tackle the issue of finding shelter and then he would investigate this deathly silent wood. Climbing out of his shelter he sheathed his weapons and pushed a pile of snow over the dying embers with his boot.

Wrapping his arms around himself against the cold wind he started off, his first inclination was to find a game trail. A path used by the local fauna, if there were indeed any local fauna at all. Picking his way through the sometimes rough terrain of the forest floor he searched along the freshly fallen snow for any signs of tracks. It didn't take him long though to notice what a futile effort it was, he only needed to look back to see how quickly the wind erased his own tracks. Then he tried another tactic, searching the trees for signs of life. A bird, a squirrel, a nest or any such evidence that the creatures were around and found nothing.

Curiosity got the better of him and he drew a slow deep breath in order to sample all the scents the night time wind had to offer. Green earth, damp soil and chilling snow was all he picked up at first. Giving a snort he turned off his route and veered into a small clearing. Where he stood in the center and closed his eyes. Sometimes the best way to sharpen a sense was to dull the rest of the senses. While standing silently he tuning out the sounds of wind blown leaves and dancing branches. When he felt that his nose was ready he gave a soft exhale to empty his lungs and gave a long carefully controlled sniff.

Green earth, damp soil and chilling snow. Same as before, but there was something about these all too familiar scents that did not seem right. Their scent was too clear, too clean in a way and without a better description; too strong. Opening his eyes once more he gazed at the trees, crowned in snow and swaying gently under the moonlight.

A strong gust of ice cold wind hit him hard out of nowhere, surrounding him in a swirl of snow and tiny pieces of ice. Interrupting his thoughts once again and this time he was becoming annoyed with it! In this little clearing he was completely exposed to the cruel caress of the arctic winds. Rubbing some warmth back into his arms he retreated back into the partial shelter of the woods, changing his priorities back to the search for shelter. Collecting firewood as he traveled.

The trek took him through several miles of never ending forest and included one accidental fall through a hidden patch of ice and into a frozen pond. Luckily the water wasn't deep enough to drown in, but he was left soaked from the legs down. Which only added to his misery in the wake of this merciless wind! So when he finally spied the ruins of a small house, he was relieved, for in his miserably cold state even the moss covered rickety stone structure with is roof half caved in looked heavenly!

Setting the firewood down he made his way through the entrance, cautiously stepping over the remains of what was once it's door. In the darkness he heard what he thought might be the skittering of insects and the ominous creek of the roof over his head. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness he could make out the hearth in the back and the shapes of furniture strewn about. It looked like it had been ages since this little place had been used, but it somehow held the peculiarly strong scent of dried herbs within.

Perhaps someone was using this house after all? Well, regardless they would need to share for a little while. His only other options were to freeze or go back to his master, neither of which he wanted to do right now. Rubbing his hands together he tried to warm his numb fingers with his breath before he set to work fixing the place up a little. Dragging furniture aside to clear a space for him, flinching once when a chair practically fell apart in his hands. The wood felt very old and rotted, crumbling to dirt within his grasp.

The next thing he worked on was a fire, luckily he did find a flint perched on the very edge of the hearth stone. Using the tip of his sword with the flint, he struck a few sparks into the kindling and watched it catch in relief! Fire started far more easily in a dry place with the proper tools. As the flames grew their light spilled into the small house, at least revealing all it's little details. The floor was mostly dirt with only a small section of wood which looked suspiciously like a trap door. The walls were made of carefully fitted stones, work that had been so perfectly done that the only thing that could get through the cracks was moss.

The hearth itself looked like it had been carved out of one large rock. It was an amazing piece of work that he couldn't help but marvel at; until he noticed a set of strange markings scratched into the stone.

Runes.

A line of them were carved into the lip that hung above the flames. By the look of the craftsmanship they were not put there by the same hand that chiseled the heath. Such things were never a good sign, but coupled with the smell of herbs it gave him a few guesses of who or what had once lived here.

What was left of a broken table ended up serving as the door, though it functioned about as well as a door as it did as a broken table. Doing nothing against the chill wind that swept in with every gentle gust. What remained of the previous door was broken down to firewood, to which he fed to the hungry flames; trying ward the chill away. The fire's soft glow gave the little hut a small measure of comfort that he was more than grateful for.

This was much better than the tree hollow and it also spared him from having to dig out a den in this unforgiving cold. Despite the positive things he warily rolled his eyes up to the roof of rotting thatch and bowed wooden beams, blackened with decay from years of weathering. Sleeping beneath this was going to be a difficult task with the fear of a cave in quite literally looming over his head. "As long as that doesn't come down over my head I think I can survive a few days here." He muttered softly to himself

With the problems of shelter and warmth solved for the time being he turned his attention to his next task, exploring this little abode. Using one of the longer bits of fire wood as a torch he crept towards the trap door. It looked like no more than a large square of splintered wood on an otherwise dirt floor. But the smells seeping up through the cracks were what piqued his curiosity. Needing nimble fingers, he set the torch down and sunk his claws into the edge of the wood and tried to pry it open. This was the only way he could think of to open it since he didn't see a latch or handle anywhere.

The door lifted with an ominous creek that only grew louder the more he pried it up. When it was up enough for him to let it go a huge plume of dust rose up as it fell to the dirt; it forced him to retreat back and shield his face from the onslaught as he coughed! He waved a hand furiously to help dispel the dust.

When the cloud was finally dispersed he picked the torch back up and lowered it over what looked like a set of wooden steps that lead into a cellar. Though he did not need to tread very far down to see that it was a very small room and was not high enough for him to even stand in. But a rack positioned in the center of the room was laden with dried parsley; and the queasy smell of a rotting potato somewhere told him what the room was for.

It also gave credit to his theory that someone else was in this wood. Taking a sprig of the parsley he nibbled on a few dry leaves, (it was still too green to be fully cured) and mused. "If I ever do find meat I have some seasoning for it." Nipping the rest of the sprig between his lips he shut the trap door once again and returned to the hearth. Basking in the warmth that radiated off the thick stone. Which was a fleeting comfort as a stern gust of ice cold wind swept past the meager defense of the door and brought about a shiver!

This would be a lot easier to deal with if he had fur. He mulled over that little fact as he sat near the flames and rubbed at his arms, casting the door an unamused look. If he could not grow his own fur then he'd need to find something that did have fur and skin it. There had to be game somewhere out here, if there was someone who was using this little house from time to time, then that must mean there was something to hunt out here. At worst he could look for long reeds and weave them together into a grass cloak, it would do little for warmth but it would stop the wind from cutting right through him.

Letting his gaze wander to the fire, he entertained the idea of hunting. If at for the very least for vegetables or roots if he could not find meat. There were yams growing around here after all, not that he could live off yams for too long. None the less it was safe to assume there were other edibles growing out there. Even if he found nothing edible, there was always a need for firewood.

Casting one last look to the cheery fire he reluctantly rose to his feet and gathered his sword. Squeezing his way past the rickety broken table and stepping outside into the lightly falling snow.

He retraced his steps back towards the water, taking his time as he prowled along the shore. The soft soles of his leather boots hardly making a sound over the frozen ground as he searched for signs in the half thawed mud. Here the ice over the river was thin and retracted enough from shore for some beast to come in and drink. Though as he began to give up hope and consider his luck fishing, his gaze fell upon cloven hoofprints leading away from the river.

A deer from what he could tell, though by the size of the hooves the creature had to have been quite large! Hope filled his heart at the prospect of substantial food and a pelt big enough to completely blanket him. Then the thrill of the hunt sparked somewhere deep within and after taking a moment to breath in what potentially may have been his prey's scent. Stirring a predatory instinct that had long since lay dormant within the reaches of his softened mind. In that instant the cold, hunger and worry were forgotten as the hunt began.

The forest seemed to open to him as he slipped back in, shadows that had up until then been a hindrance were suddenly more welcoming to him. Slipping through the skeletal remains of shrubs and the low hanging branches of snow laden trees, he trailed after the deer's scent. Finding a little encouragement every time he spied a hoofprint in the snow. Then a flutter of movement that was neither a leaf or falling snow caught his attention and he noticed a tuft of fur.

Brown and tan it poked out from where it was caught by a shard of tree bark, probably where the deer had rubbed up against it. Carefully he gathered the little bundle of fur and gave it a sniff. Reaffirming the scent of his prey and that it has not passed here too long ago. The anticipation for the kill rolled through his form from head to toe in way he'd not felt in a very long time. It was invigorating and the adrenalin seeping into his blood was enough to push him into picking up his pace.

With the scent fresh in his memory he continued the hunt, following the trail that he could see even when the snow no longer bore tracks. Slowing down a little when he reached a very steep hill that required some care to get down. It was while he was picking his path around the angled trees that he heard the first soft buzz through the air. There wasn't any time to wonder or think, he simply ducked and rolled as something hit the papery white trunk of a tree in his place! Crouching down in the leaf litter he peered up in time to see the arrow trembling where it had sunk into the tree.

That had been meant for his skull.

Another arrow hit the ground just in front of his form, forcing him to move quickly! Scrambling through broken twigs and dead leaves as dodged another bolt! There had to be two archers, the attacks were too quick for a single shooter! Yet they were so perfectly coordinated in their strikes that he never had a moment to look nor draw his sword. Forced to remain on a retreat he ducked among the brush for what little cover he could get. The trees were too thin to adequately shield him but somehow he managed to avoid each shot by inches. Was he facing two inept archers or was the forest granting him a blessing of luck during this ambush?

The answer came when the very ground beneath his feet suddenly gave way. Driven by instinct his own demonic power flared out, trying to catch him as he fell while claws scraped for anything solid! However neither would be enough to stop his fall into an abyss, a curse hissed through his clenched teeth as he watched darkness and leaves closing around him. Before searing hot pain ripped through his body and threatened to snuff out the last of the light.

Whatever was on the bottom of this trap, he hit it hard enough to force the very air out of his lungs in one violent gush. In hindsight he'd have seen this as a small blessing as he would have otherwise screamed as the pain swept through him. As far as he knew his eyes were open but all he could see was a darkness. At the same time he came to the horrific realization that whatever he'd hit, it was not the ground!

Somehow through this moment of shock he could hear the sounds of footfalls through the leaf litter above him and it sparked a will to fight like never before. All his limbs felt like lead, one of his legs was caught at an awkward angle and hurt terribly when he tried to move it. But there was some strength left in his arms as he began to feel around. Something in his chest hurt so badly that sparks danced before his eyes every time he tried to move, which to make matters worse he felt like his whole body was twisted in an awkward angle.

The sounds of voices above him cut through the haze of pain in his mind and just like that his eyes suddenly cleared. Only to stare in bewilderment at the piece of wood jutting out of his chest, looking very much like the shaft of a sharpened spear. His warm blood quickly coating the remaining three feet of it that was still between him and the ground.

He'd fallen into a pit trap. It's bottom lined heavily in spears, two of which had caught him. One through his chest, shredding through a lung and leaving him impaled, yet by some miracle missing his spine. While the other had practically split his left shin in half while the leg dangled at a twisted angle. Escaping from this would be a near impossible feat, but he would not give up!

Taking a firm hold of the spear, he began to struggle and slide himself up. The effort though was difficult, his good leg planted a boot on another spear, trying to gain some leverage. The pain was excruciating and the sound of his blood spilling onto the dead leaf litter below was not promising in the least. Followed by the chilling sound of tearing flesh that left him with the fear of losing part of his skewered leg if he was not careful!

While he fought to free himself something hit him in the back of the head, it wasn't very hard but impossible to miss. Rolling his head up he tried to look up at whoever was looming above, when he caught a better look at what hit him and cursed through blood stained teeth.

There was nothing he could do but watch the rope fall over his head, nor could he stop it from pulling tight around his neck! In the sudden panic he released the spear he was holding and his body sunk down, impaling him further than before. Blood gurgled up into his mouth a moment before the rope grew taut and his airway was cut off! Desperately he clawed at the rope, never noticing a second one ensnaring his injured leg. All he felt was the sudden sharp tug that pried the limb free of the spear head and sent pops of pain shooting down his twisted spine. They were pulling him out from the bed of spears, but at this rate he'd not live to see the top of the pit!

His struggle lasted for only a few more minutes, his mouth gasping for air that would not come and his fingers fighting to loosen the slip knot in the noose. Then either out of lack of air or from pain all the strength left his body and he hung there limp as a rag doll. His hands falling away from his if he could break the rope, another fall onto the spears would certainly do him in.

Well this was an embarrassing way to die wasn't it? An overwhelming sense of calm fell over him, enough so that he could come up with a clear thought. Maybe he was accepting of death? After all he was the fool that fell for this simplest of traps! The irony in that was degrading, here he thought he was hunting down prey and in the end, he became the prey. As darkness robbed his vision, he found himself feeling an odd sense of guilt.

Chapter 43 - End.

Authors Note: Six months later. I am so sorry! A whole host of things got in the way of my creative energies and my fanfic suffered unfortunately. But I'm back and getting into the swing of writing once more! Hopefully I can get back to a normal schedule soon.