He treaded through the snow, his path illuminated only by the pale glow of moonlight. All around him the woods was silent, ominously so. Every step he took, if it were to do as little as snap a twig, would cause him to turn sharply and look about. Loki was in Frost Giant territory, that much he knew; he had been through the realm many times on one misguided journey or another on his brother's behalf. The difference now was that he was on his own and no army of Asgardian soldiers would rush to his rescue if he were to be captured. Even if that were the case, surely they would not arrive in time if he were found by a troop of Frost Giants. They would want nothing more than to snap his neck in two after he had destroyed more than half of their kingdom, he would have destroyed it all if he could. Revenge and malice was all that they had left, Loki could understand. He trudged on through the night, playing out various such worst-case scenarios which kept him awake and alert.
It was cold enough for him to see his breath and already he had lost all sensation to his fingers. Loki wondered how long it would be before he found a place to take shelter, or when his search would be ended by a less fortunate stroke of fate. He tried to suppress his bitterness, wanting to blame it on the frost and his aching feet, on anything other than his own failures and miscalculations. He should have insured himself with alternatives; in case Thor managed to return from Earth, in case Odin awoke too soon, in case he was double crossed by Laufey. But he had gotten ahead of himself; he could call it optimism or mere recklessness, either way it was over now. The battle had been fought and lost, and who was he to think that he could stand against Thor in a fist fight? He could have used a spell, it would not be trickery but simply a way of evening out the playing field against the brute's Mjolnir, at least then he could have had a chance – what did it matter now, replaying those demeaning scenes in his mind?
Loki sighed, a scowl crossing his face. He was hardly in the right mindset for a trek through a feral forest such as this. Loki wondered if he was the first creature on two legs to ever cross this path, it looked as nature does when it has not yet been touched by the hand of civilization. With some difficulty, his slender body weaved past the branches, looking up at the sky every so often, using the stars as his compass. Loki considered whether or not the bifrost bridge could ever be rebuilt, or if the Asgardians would be confined to their own realm for good. Of course there were other ways to travel between worlds, he in fact had studied the subject for years. At first it had only been a thirst for knowledge that urged him on, he had not imagined that it would be a tool in a plot bordering on treason.
His train of thoughts was suddenly broken as he heard a rustling ahead of him, he sensed that something was approaching and it sent the adrenalin rushing through his veins. The deity tried in vain to collect himself and decide his next move, whether to flee or hide. Loki chose to hide, it was difficult to judge whether he would be able to outrun whatever it was that was coming closer by the second. He lowered himself to the ground and pressed his back to a broad tree trunk, hoping that it would conceal him. Loki held his breath, his jaws clenched, waiting.
Heavy footsteps moved stealthily through the foliage, almost soundlessly. Loki gulped, his eyes wild and frantic with fear. The shadow loomed closer and he could tell that the pivotal moment would soon come. Loki's thoughts were already leaning towards accepting the fate of prey as he drew a tense breath of air. No sooner did he do so that a flash of darkness darted across his line of vision, a firm grip clasping onto his wrists and pinning him to the ground. He could suddenly feel the weight of another body atop of him and a pair of fiery red eyes staring him down. The Frost Giant breathed heavily like an angry bull, a savage animal before ripping flesh from bone. Loki was too frightened to scream or even to squirm, if he could think rationally he would agree as to how futile it would be, in the depths of the forest. All he could do now was pray that the other would not recognize him as the dethroned Asgardian ruler responsible for the destruction of the realm. He felt despicable, not being able to defend himself as Thor would, placed at the mercy of an odious creature.
"You-you are Loki," the Frost Giant hissed, his face inches from his captive's. Loki could feel the its breath against his skin, nothing was more unnerving. Oh how he loathed the irony of it all. He had to concentrate, he had to think fast. These were the crucial moments between life and death.
"No brother, you are mistaken," spoke Loki, trying to control his tone as not to reveal fear. Slowly the pigment of his skin turned to a corpse-like shade of blue, his sapphire eyes matching those of the other male's sinister gaze.
The Frost Giant was taken aback by the transformation, causing him to momentarily loosen his grip on Loki's wrists. The God of Mischief took his chance, slamming his knee into the other's groin and shoving him off with all of his remaining strength. Perhaps it was not the way of combat for an honorable Asgardian warrior, but who was he to play fair? His deception and wit was all that he had to make up for his scrawny build. Without a moment to lose, Loki pulled out a dagger and aimed for the main artery of the Frost Giant's throat. Meanwhile the beast writhed on the ground in pain while trying to grab hold of his prisoner, further fueled with rage that he had let his guard down. Loki's attacker managed to dodge the blows made by very quivering hands and was already scrambling to his feet. Loki knew that this was his cue to flee. He darted through the forest as fast as his legs would carry him, trying to recover quickly as he stumbled over rocks and roots in the darkness of the night. The moon was now covered by a heavy fog, making it more difficult to see. Loki hoped that it would also help conceal him from the enemy.
The Frost Giant was gaining on him, even as he created mirages in attempts to dismay him he was still reluctant to slow down in his pursuit. The creature kept his eyes locked on the figure that was Loki, ignoring the identical replicas that weaved passed him, turning to smoke as he reached through them. Words that could only have been curses were heard, uttered in the foreign tongue of the creature. Loki just kept running, he could not afford to look back. Already he was out of breath and weary, it was his instinct for survival that drove him on. Suddenly he sensed that the forest was still, hearing nothing but distant bird calls. He paused, feeling unusually dizzy; his legs were unsteady as the trees seemed to spin around him – a sharp pain shot through his neck. Then darkness.