introducing him to a whole new world of pain. He was suffused in the pleasure of the dream when voices shouting shattered his visions.
He came instantly awake, rolling to his feet, hand on sword. Everyone in the camp was up, wary, and there was a group of four standing at the tree where he left the boy. He immediately thought that Surt had come after the boy. With that thought burning in his head, he started that way with murderous intent. He glanced over and saw Surt still in his blankets near the firepit, battered and bandaged; yet, he appeared to be as surprised by the commotion as Matus.
Matus came up to the group by the tree, pushed his way through, looking for the boy, but all he saw was the boy's bonds next to the tree, cut. He quickly knelt and found the jagged rock. "So, the boy had some courage in him after all." He thought. He had not believed it or he would have made sure the boy was secured to the tree. He felt the rest of the men watching him, judging, maybe even questioning his leadership.
Standing abruptly, he spun and pointed to the two men he had left on guard. "How did the boy slip past you?" He asked, voice cold and dangerous. He approached the men, stopping directly in front of them. "Were you lax in your duties? You know what I will do if I find out that you were."
"Matus, we did as you commanded." One of the men said. "We were patrolling outside of camp, watching for attackers, not someone sneaking out. If you had..." He cut off as Matus smashed his fist into his head, the man going down in a heap, groaning.
Matus looked at the other one. "Do you have something to say?" He asked quietly.
"No, Matus." The man replied quickly.
"Good. Pick that fool up and get ready to leave." Matus turned to the other men. "We depart in three minutes. Anyone not ready to move by then will be left here for the scavengers!" The men hurriedly gathered their supplies and were ready to march before Matus' time or patience ended.
"We will track and recapture the boy. He is to be taken alive." Matus said. He fixed Surt with a cold stare. "If anyone other than me harms the boy further, they will answer for it in blood." He saw nods all around, even Surt.
He motioned the men to start moving. "Keep running, boy." He thought, smiling to himself. "I always like a good chase. In the end, you will be mine again."
...
Lost in the grip of fear, Jake ran down the forest path, heedless of his direction. His mind was screaming for him to keep running and get as much distance as possible between his captors and himself. He would slip and fall as he lost his footing in the dark, aggravating all of his injuries, but each time, he got up and continued to run.
But he was running on fumes and knew it. The bread he was given was not enough to keep him going. He felt his strength ebb and slowed to a walk. His fear kept him moving, afraid that if he stopped he would not be able to restart. As he recovered, he would try to sprint again, but the periods that he could maintain it grew shorter and shorter. After the last sprint, he could not help himself and stopped, hands on his legs, lungs burning.
As he paused to catch his breath, Jake heard the soft sound of running water off to his right and turned towards it. Stifling a groan, he made himself move and pushed his way through some tall underbrush and saw a small stream, its water an inky black in the soft moonlight. He stopped at the edge and knelt down to drink. The water had a muddy taste to it, but Jake did not care and drank deeply. It cooled his parched throat, easing the rough feel in the back of his mouth.
He only knelt for a few seconds, but as he rose, he could feel his legs starting to cramp. He propelled himself in motion, trying to ignore the painful muscle contractions. He walked into the stream, heedless of the water soaking his shoes and socks, and turned upstream. He hoped that walking in the stream would throw off his trail against the inevitable pursuit. He stumbled and splashed his way for several hundred yards, then exited