Chapter Eight

John agreed with Frito. 'Burn, burn, burn' didn't sound like something he'd want to hear coming from a group of people that thought he was a danger to them.

He patted Frito on the shoulder. "It's okay Frito. I'm sure it won't be anything to bad." He had tried to sound comforting but his voice had cracked near the end as someone entered their tent. It was a man, much stronger than George, and also much younger. A long scar ran the length of his square jaw and all the way up to his forehead where it met with his long black hair that had been pulled back into a large ponytail.

"Ge' up," he grunted at Frito. "An' ge' out." He nodded to both of them in turn, and pointed at the exit.

"Come on, Frito," John said, putting on a painful smile to portray he wasn't scared. Frito clutched to John's leg as they moved towards the exit. The strong man exited before them, to tremendous cheers, and then John saw an opportunity to escape.

He grabbed Frito and dashed to the back of tent. Luckily the tent had no flooring, and John had little difficulty raising the back of the it. He held up with one hand, and motioned for Frito to crawl under with the other.

Frito obeyed, and made his way under the tent. He stuck his back under and gave the thumbs up sign to show everything was clear. John then preceded to crawl under, but just as soon as he had stuck his head out, a breeze swept over him, going from the legs up.

John grimaced. He had the odd sensation that someone had just entered the tent. His accusation was soon proven right as whoever had entered grabbed him roughly above the knees and began to pull. John let out a groan as he lost his balance and fell to the ground. He rubbed his sore chin, but quickly made an attempt to free himself from his captor. He chanced a glance backwards and saw a bobbing black pony tail and long scar.

"Damn," John muttered. It was the strong man from earlier.

John forced his hands into the earth and pulled with all his might. Unfortunately, the other man was pulling his hardest which equaled about three times John's hardest. Frito jumped onto John's arms and began to pull as well. The result was a searing pain that made John feel as though his body was being slowly split in half. Frito pulled his hardest, but it was no use.

He let go, and John found himself move several inches backwards. Frito hitched up his dress and dug deep into his pocket and produced the potion.

John's eye's widened for a split second as he dreaded Frito was going to open potion and use it on the man. But instead, Frito quickly put the potion back in his pocket, and took out a small tightly bound pouch. The elf pulled lightly at the string, and the bag fell open. Then, he hurriedly scooped up a handful of dust and blew it at the man holding John, concentrating hard.

The sparkling dust scattered over the mans face, and a second later, painful boils had sprouted all over it. The man let out a shout of agonizing pain, and let go of John to clutch his face. John scrambled out of the tent as Frito began to close the bag up.

"Come on, Frito," John told him, grabbing his arm. The half opened bag fell from the elf's hand and hit the ground, sending a cloud of the dust at the tent. The dust collided with the tent, and the whole thing was engulfed in flames. The man ran out at after them, still clutching his face, as the tent was quickly reduced to ashes.

John cringed, looking behind them. The tent was gone and they were more visible than John fancied through the low remaining flames. The crowd stopped cheering to get a better a look at the tent that was on fire, and try to make out the two figures behind it. John began to tiptoe backwards, with Frito at his side.

"Just go slowly, and they won't have any suspicion that we're people trying to escape…" John told the little elf. "Just back…away…"

"THEY'RE ESCAPING! AGH! OWWW! ESCAPING!" Damn. It was the man Frito had caused painful boils to pop up on.

John grabbed Frito by the middle and bolted for the forest surrounding the settlement as the crowd of specters began to work out what the crippled looking man on the ground was screaming.

"THE SPIES!" The man roared, forcing himself to get up on his knees. "THE SPIES ARE ESCAPING!" The crowd gasped, and not even waiting for an order from George rushed past the fiery remains of the tent and onwards to the woods.

John could hear the crowd behind him, their footsteps banging against the dirt ground so hard that his knees where shaking from the vibrations. Frito kept his eyes closed. With every bouncing stride John took, Frito felt like he was going to hurl from the bobbing motions.

"I don't l-l-like this at all," Frito babbled. "I think I'm going t-to hurl, M-m-master John."

"Then go right ahead," John relied. "Hopefully it will blow back towards them."

Several people were pulling their wands out of their pockets and casting spells towards them, blasting off the ground and shrubbery around them. John dived to the ground as bark exploded around him. A pieces grazed past John's face as he fell to the ground, leaving an oozing red cut.

"Ouch!" John yelled, as he whit the ground. He put his free hand to his face to feel the scrape. It was bleeding quite profoundly, but there was no time to worry about that. The throng of angry people were closing in on them. John pulled himself back up, and flung Frito over his shoulder where the house-elf hung limply upside down.

"CAN YOU GO ANY FASTER?!" Frito yelled as his carrier stumbled over a large root.

"Sorry," John snorted, regaining his posture. "But your dress keeps blowing in my face. I can't see where I'm going." He tripped on a tree stump and fell onto the ground again. John quickly hopped up again and continued running, spitting dirt out of his mouth.

"I wish you'd st-st-stop doing that-t," Frito remarked.

"Doing what?" SLAM. John stumbled backwards and fell over.

"That," Frito replied stubbornly, as he untangled himself fro, John and hurriedly went to investigate the formation John had just slammed into. It appeared to be a very wide rocky "stair". It wasn't very tall, but just tall enough for them to be unable to get themselves up without equipment.

"We're doomed," John realized as he looked up at the rock.

"D-d-d-d-d-oomed," Frito agreed. The crowd of angry people was getting closer and closer. John could practically feel their breath. Pebbles around them began bouncing up and down on the hard earth and John could hear the crisping of the leaves under their feet. There was nothing they could do. Nothing at all. Nothing at all except climb the rope that had just fallen over the top of the rock.

John glanced at Frito and nodded, before the both scrambled up the rope. John got to the top of the rock, and he quickly pulled the rope up from behind him. He then grabbed Frito and whipped around to continue running. It wouldn't be long before one of their pursuers figure away up. As John whipped around to continue on his way, he spotted who must've dropped the rope for them to climb up.

And if this was the person who had helped them, he was startled by what he saw.