Lightning illuminated the dark sky, but down below the forest canopy light was the last thing the dark fleeting shadow wanted. Rain pierced through the leaves, but it was not enough to penetrate the black cloak of the runner.
Jumping. Hunted. Breathless.
Whether he ran as a seasoned fighter retreating from impossible odds or that of a mindless animal running out of fear, it did not matter-his feet drove him on.
Another bolt of lightning lit the scene; around him could barely be seen something most would consider unnatural. Chasing the cloaked figure were women, but they had the legs of a bird, and rather than arms they had giant wings by which they flew. Though they could not always be seen through the trees, he could hear the beating of their wings; the spray from each flap would spatter his coat, a grim warning for what would happen if they got too close.
Fear. Instinct. Darkness.
Vaulting over a tree limb, he kept up his dash. Sword hitting his back every time he took a stride, the shadow dared not draw it. Hesitation of any sort would lead to sure death, talons ripping flesh from bone. Reaching a cliff face, his arms shot out to keep him from toppling over the edge. in front of him was a foreign landscape. The cliff face stretched for some distance on either side of him. It appeared he was on a plateau, for for woodlands stretched out as far as the stormy night would allow the eye to see.
With the hunters already upon him, he knew there was only one option he could take. Without a second to take a breath, he took the plunge off the sheer face. With a sickening thud, the cloaked figure’s body first hit a part of the rock face that jutted out. Tumbling off, it became limp as it rolled down the slope, already unconscious...