War Prize

Chapter Twenty-Two: KATIRINA

       I was running again, for the fifth time this week. I could hear the dogs, behind me. Barking to each other, communicating that they had found me. Found me again, for the fifth time this week. But this time is different.

       I thought he would have given up the search after 48 hours, but he didn't.

       He didn't stop after five days, or seven, or twelve.

       Eighteen days he has been hunting me. Eighteen days I have been able to stay one step ahead of his men. And I nearly made it to nineteen days, but I made a mistake. I slipped up. In my exhaustion, I didn't see them until it was too late. Didn't see the two guardsmen who were patrolling the city I had been hiding in, until it was too late. I hadn't been in the city for very long, only a day or so. I had arrived two days after I almost been caught in a different city. And now I was running again. 

         The shouts were getting louder, and my muscles were getting weaker.I looked around wildly, searching for an escape option. 

         Then I was falling. Tumbling down a hill that appeared out of nowhere, praying that I don't hit a tree. 

         I slid to a stop as I neared to a stop. Paused for a moment, waiting for my head to stop spinning. Then I was running again, in the ditch that I had fallen into. 

         The shouts faded behind me. And when I could no longer hear them, I slowed my frantic sprint to a jog. Which slowed to a walk. I took this time to look around myself. Hills, of dirt and leaves, flanked me on both sides. I ran a hand over my face, as my mind raced. 

          I had two choices, continue straight until the ditch ended, or climb out. The ditch made me a siting duck if they found me, but climbing out would take far more energy. I weighed the options then decided to climb out. Once out I could climb a tree or something and wait them out. 

         It seemed like the best course of action. I glanced down at myself, at the brown trousers covered in dirt. I had nicked them, and a jacket from a laundry line hanging in some nameless village. There was now a hole at the knee, showing off a nasty scrape. I hissed out a curse when I saw the blood that was covering it. If I climbed out of the ditch, there is a higher chance that I would leave behind blood. Blood meant that they, and their dogs, could track me easier. 

          I'm stuck, backed into a corner, with no easy path for escape. I decided to stay in the ditch, where there was no twigs I could snap, and I would spill less blood. So I walked on, keeping my pace slow and steady, listening to the sounds of life; trying to block out the energy that swirled around me, and pulled at the edge of my conscience. 

           I knew something was wrong when the sounds suddenly stopped. I stopped moving, and swung my head around in search of the cause. When I faced forward again, he was there. 

           The man with two swords. 

           He studied me, his stance locked, feet braced apart, and shoulders tense. "No more running." He ordered. 

          I threw out a kick to his stomach in response. He side stepped me. I swung out a fist, that struck him the stomach. He barely grunted. So I swung out another. He swatted my hand away as though it was an annoying bug. I kicked him, hitting him in the knee. He retaliated by knocking my feet out from beneath me. I landed on the ground painfully hard. 

        "Stop." He said. I didn't. Instead I rolled to my feet, acted as though I was going to kick him. Then I turned and ran when he moved to avoid my foot. I made it exactly nine steps before he knocked me to the ground. I twisted and trashed, refusing to scream, but it had no effect. 

        I let my muscles go weak. There was no use in fighting.  

        I was well and truly caught.