Ambrose looked over his shoulder as he ran through the forest.
The forest? That was where he was? How had he gotten all the way to the forest from the castle? He stumbled and gasped, looking down at his legs which seemed to be moving as if they had a mind of their own. Why were they running? What were they running away from? What was he—
"Ah!" Ambrose stopped abruptly and doubled over in pain, taking his throbbing head in his hands and threading his fingers through his dark hair. It hurt. His head hurt so much and he didn't know why. His shaking hands kept touching, searching for any injury he could have that would make it hurt so much. Then he felt something hard and cold against his fingertips: metal, a zipper.
"Keep running, advisor!" a mocking shout came from somewhere behind him, and Ambrose groaned as he got to his feet. He had to keep moving, that was all he knew. And his name.
There were colors and sounds, and fear, and his name.
He couldn't forget.