When the cold wind came suddenly through the trees and extinguished the fire, there was no more bonfire to prevent him from the fallen dark night.

The afternoon had been a little warm, if compared with the others during the week, what could mean a pleasant evening and a bearable night. However, it was never good trying to predict the weather in Downhill - considering that he was still there, once there was never any certainty throughout the Pathway. The grass was massive and more green than usual down there, and the sky was nearly invisible with the tall trees covering the sunlight, as well as the moonlight after the fall. All these aspects were described in the stories about the Pathway, which ones he had heard about a good thousand times while a child. Being there personally, though, was quite different and way more dangerous; after two weeks in the First Division, he was almost killed a few dozen times. Getting used to it was, definitely, harder than he had ever thought.

If I don't hurry, he thought when the last spark faded upon a little piece of wood, they're gonna find me. A few moments before choosing to try the Pathway his very first (and probably only) time, the Great Nany had warned him about how many hunters the Ruler usually sent to chase the volunteers every year.

- Always more than forty, never more than fifty. The majority stays in the Third Division, so you may reserve your forces to the end, m'brave boy.

He left her with a nod, but just before making his choice official, the old lady shouted to him a last advice:

- Dangerous they must be, Ray, but even soldiers fear the dark.

The problem, he thought, is that I fear it too.

Until that night, Ray had counted thirty four soldiers - few killed by him, the great rest at his back -, and that was supposed to be the easiest division. May the Gods burn you alive, Ruler, he cursed in thought. Only a moment later, he heard a noise come from the bushes.

Ray turned around quickly, searching for some sign of movement near there but finding nothing. The wind that had extinguished his bonfire for the night was gone, now succeeded by a cold breeze come from nowhere. Almost one minute later, he concluded that whatever was the noise, it had vanished or was too insignificant to worth any major attention. When howls sounded somewhere far away there, Ray was sure that he had to worry; wolves were never a good sign in Downhill, and it was not too dark to move away, at least to the most security place in a mile or two he could find.

Then, the last noise came out again, but this time it was louder and everywhere.

His automatic reaction would be grabbing his bow and immediately some arrows, of course - it could be an animal, and animals meant food -, if he had had enough time. Incredibly fast, the confused and low noise turned into a clear sound of steps coming quickly from all directions. By the moment he touched the tip of one arrow, an extremely strong punch hit him on the neck, and after another even stronger. In a matter of seconds, there were half dozen of hands hitting him with ceaseless punches. The pain spread through all his body, and suddenly there were no movements he could do with one single finger. His vision vanished in a blur, and the last thing he heard before his ears lose their function too was a clear shout following cheers by, at least, half hundred voices:

- The eldest brings the newest. We got the bait, now, LET'S GET THE FISH!