It wasn't long until bestial squeals resonated through the expansive forest, reaching Hunter's ears. Immediately, he knew what was making them. His heart stopped. Years of experience told him that could mean only one thing; they had found something.

"Korrow," he whispered. The grublins had found Korrow. The young cheetah wouldn't stand a chance against them. He had to help him!

Yanking an arrow out of his quiver, Hunter notched it onto his bowstring, and without taking any precautions, the cheetah bolted off, ready to fight at a moment's notice.

…

The war cries of the enemy were ever nearer as they gained on Korrow. Despite his youth, the young cheetah's endurance proved to be inferior to the energy supplied by the maniacal blood thirst of the grublins, and in a minute they became visible over his shoulder. Picking up the pace, he jumped over a rock that stuck out in front of him, landing with catlike grace on the other side.

The storm was almost completely past, and the sun's intense rays sliced through the thinning layer of clouds like a knife in butter. As Korrow ran further, the trees began to thin out, allowing for the golden beams to shine more fervently through the foliage. However, Korrow did not have time to enjoy the scene. A high pitched shriek caused him to whip his head around, and to his terror, he saw one particularly fast grublin directly behind him, primed to stab Korrow in the back. Yelling in exertion, Korrow ducked under a thick tree branch, but just then a plan dawned on him. Doing a 180 degree turn, he grabbed the end of the branch, peeled it back and released it with one fluid motion. The unobservant creature never knew what hit him as the tree branch slapped into his forehead, knocking him out stone cold. The sword, held loosely, flew out of his hand, clattering harmlessly on top of a nearby boulder. Not pausing to see the damage he caused, Korrow kept on running, the howls and endless chatter of his pursuers becoming deafening.

All of a sudden, Korrow's ear twitched as a projectile zipped past his cheek. His fur prickled in pure terror as he recognized the outline of a crossbow bolt embedded in the tree in front of him. Desperate to avoid being shot, he weaved left and right, thankful for the outstretched branches that made him a harder target.

A fine mist was all that remained of the rain now, and the distance between Korrow and his pursuers shrank by the second, potential cover around him diminishing greatly as the trees became more spaced out. Immediately following this was a sudden downhill drop. Unprepared, Korrow's tired legs gave out from the stress that the downhill descent inflicted upon them, and the young cheetah's footpaws slipped out from underneath him. Falling hard onto his back, he slid down the muddy hill. Rocks lay in front of him, and a cry of pain escaped his throat as his back collided with the side of a big, flat slab. Reaching up with both arms, his claws dug into the slippery slime in an attempt to slow himself, but it was no use as his right leg scraped against the edge of a razor like stone. In place of a scream came a breathless gasp of pain, but he ignored the injury, concentrating on making it down the hill. When he reached the bottom, he slammed into the ground, legs sinking ankle deep into the gooey substance. With a loud pop, Korrow yanked his foot out of the mire, only having enough time to glance at the bloody gash on his right leg before getting back onto his feet.

Now, a loud whooshing sound was audible, and Korrow recognized the familiar cacophony without even having to think. There was a river nearby, and judging from the amount of noise it was producing, the water was very high. Tucking this knowledge away in the back of his mind, Korrow hurdled over a rotten log, covered from head to toe in mud, blood and water.

…

Golinod's men, in spite of their motivation to kill, were significantly slowed down by the steep hill, and within the span of only one minute, they had gone from hard on their quarry's heels to much farther behind. Shouting at his troops in their barbaric language, the goblin placed both feet firmly onto the hill before shuffling down carefully, even his limited mental capacity able to understand that a slip up would lead to serious injury. The cloaked cheetah was no longer visible, and his men were not yet at the bottom of the hill. Golinod bared his fangs in rage, not willing to let his prey escape.

When they finally made it to the bottom, there was no longer any obstacle for the grublins to overcome. With fantastic speed they rushed after their persistent quarry, every running step only feeding their lust for the cheetah's blood. Golinod screamed out to his troops.

"Get after the cheetah! I want his head!"

…

It was impossible to escape them, thought Korrow. He was not fast enough to flee from them for much longer, and there was no way he could fight them all. He was going to die in this forest.

Frenzied tears clouded his vision as the realization of his doom hit him in the chest. Nothing he could do would prevent his death in this miserable place. Fighting for breath, Korrow clutched a hand to his chest as a tight cramp knotted up underneath his ribcage. His energy was spent, and his legs no longer had the same spring they had formerly contained. To make matters worse, he stumbled over a rock, losing his footing and tripping over his injured leg before hitting a shallow puddle below. Some of the mud and dirt splashed into his leg wound, creating a fiery sensation that traveled all the way up his body. Gritting his teeth in agony, Korrow pushed himself up from the soggy earth with both his arms and his legs, yowling as a wave of pain traveled from the deep slice on his calf to his hip.

And yet, in the face of his wounds, Korrow nonetheless wanted every minute remaining in his life to be concentrated on delaying the inevitable. He wasn't going to lie down and die, and he certainly wasn't going to go down without taking as many of the beasts with him as he was able to. Eyes still dripping tears, the determined cheetah doggedly carried on through his many afflictions, blood coagulating over his leg and footpaw.

Pulling out an arrow from his quiver, Korrow held it point first in his hand as he scampered around the innumerable trees, hearing a steady high pitched wail from behind as his enemies grew closer. The downhill drop had only briefly stalled them, but once they had made it to the bottom, it became apparent that it was only a matter of time before Korrow was tracked down and killed. Korrow, fully aware of what would become of him, sacrificed speed in order to fasten the arrow's flight onto his bowstring. The fight, however short it may be, was about to commence.

At last, Korrow could run no further. Fatigue overwhelmed his body, and he made the last few running steps he could muster before turning about, facing the general direction his enemy would arrive from. Catching his breath, he leaned against a tall, broad tree trunk. The bow in his hand shook visibly, and cold sweat poured from his brow. Repressing fear, Korrow got into a firing stance, bowstring bent slightly to allow for an easier draw when the time came to shoot.

Korrow heard the grublins advancing long before he saw them. Waiting with baited breath, indistinct flurries of movement between the branches caught his perceptive eyes. Judging from the number of grublins he saw, there wouldn't be much time for him to put up a fight before he was overwhelmed. In fact, he was practically committing suicide by staying here, but the morbid reality of his predicament caused him to laugh weakly. It didn't make a difference if he ran away or if he stayed to fight. He was going to die anyway.

The gap between Korrow and the grublins shortened, and he could see their bodily outlines clearly. Gradually, Korrow drew the arrow back on his bowstring. He couldn't fire until he had a clear shot, but the foliage made it challenging to find one. It appeared as though the grublins hadn't actually seen him yet due to his placement against the tree. Planning to use this to his advantage, Korrow took aim, aligning the point of the arrow with his eye and keeping an approaching grublin in his sights.

Here it was. The last moments he would be on earth. Arms shaking, he bit his lip so hard that it bled. Absent of grace, the ugly creature he was aiming at leapt over a log, spear held in its right hand. Fangs bared with grim determination, Korrow brought the arrow to full draw until it reached his left ear. The muscles in his arm tensed up, keeping the arrow steady.

Time itself seemed to slow down. Concentrating, all sounds around him faded away until the thumping of his heartbeat was all that remained. Images from his memory flashed past his eyes. The cottage up in smoke, the flames dancing on the hilltop…

He loosened his grasp on the arrow, about to fire…

A faint hiss was followed by a traveling blur to Korrow's left, which caused him to stop to his fingers from letting go of the arrow. Korrow watched as the grublin set in his sights tumbled over, its animal-like groan cut short. As it collapsed, the arrow that killed it became visible, protruding from the creature's back. Dumbfounded, Korrow froze with his eyebrows raised, left to wonder where the arrow came from. A few moments passed before Korrow aimed at a new target, recovering from the shock, but as soon as he was about to release his shot, another arrow came from nowhere, striking the beast in the neck. Doing a flip from the momentum of its forward progress, it crashed into a tree with a muffled shriek.

Almost instantaneously, every grublin shifted their direction, and turned their heads to face the enemy that was firing upon them, screeching with fury. Mind ever racing, Korrow knew that he was not spotted yet, and it looked like every grublin that had been chasing him was moving after a new target. Not able to believe his luck, he leaned beside the tree, relaxing the bow string and hoping for dear life that he would not too be seen.

Who was firing from the other direction? Should he just make a break for it? Whoever started shooting had just saved his life, and it must have been intentional. But who…?

It was Hunter. There was nobody else it could be. Somehow, for some reason, Hunter had pursued him through the forest and was now being attacked by the very same grublins that were chasing him only a moment ago.

The grublins, having no idea that they were running after a different cheetah, passed Korrow by, high pitched wails sending shivers up Korrow's spine. Wisely, Korrow hopped behind the tree, making himself completely invisible in the rare case one of the grublins looked in his direction.

The sounds diminished. Now was his chance to escape. Everything within Korrow desired to use this impossible opportunity to get away.

So why weren't his limbs obeying him?

Korrow had no need to ask himself this question. It was clear why he couldn't move himself. Something didn't feel right about running away from a friend…

Friend? Is this the friend that threatened your life and threw you away? The friend that abandoned you, hated you, and disowned you?

Rooted in place, Korrow stared at a leaf that hung overhead in silent contemplation. Recalling the pure wrath in Hunter's eyes, the firelight of his village reflecting off his pupils, the knife gleaming in his hand…and yet…

Hunter did all of those things, it was true. But what truly mattered wasn't the past, but the present. And right now, Hunter was sacrificing himself to save him, of all things.

Whether it be foolishness or valor no one could ever tell, but that day Korrow did the unexpected. He left the safety of his cover, and instead of fleeing, set after the grublins at a breakneck pace.

…

Hunter whisked another arrow in between a pair of trees, and mechanically pulled out another arrow from the quiver and placed it onto his bowstring. Always agile, the cheetah kept his balance on a tall rock that lay in the middle of a large outcropping of boulders and stones, giving the appearance of a maze, and let loose another arrow at the fast approaching mob

Due to the minimal time spent aiming, it hit one creature's leg. With a scream, it toppled over, crashing into the grublin in front of him and piercing its back with the spear it carried. Not wasting any time to see what damage he had done, Hunter sent three more arrows down in rapid succession, grimacing briefly when one of his shots sank into a tree. There wouldn't be any way to take them all out, but an overwhelming feeling of satisfaction and the knowledge that his mission had been successful outweighed any despair he might have felt, even in such a dire event. Korrow's escape was all that mattered to him now.

The battle became more deadly as a faint smack sounded from the forest in front. Thankfully, Hunter's cat reflexes saved him as he ducked below an incoming crossbow bolt, the stubby projectile hissing past his head before it was lost to sight behind him. The arrow was a message to Hunter that he was no longer safe where he was at. Quickly, he shot one more arrow while on top of the rock before he leapt off of it, knowing that if he stayed there he would be a sitting duck for enemy fire.

Golinod growled as another grublin fell, transfixed by an arrow. So far, more than half a score of grublins had fallen to the cloaked escapee. This was an observation that infuriated the goblin. Not eager for any more losses, Golinod urged his troops to move faster with a simple command, "Kill him! Don't let him get away!"

Hunter heard the infuriated goblin leader from behind, and realized just how close they really were. In less than a minute, they would easily cut off his escape, surround him, and butcher him. And, if he wished to make it out of this labyrinth of rocks, he would have to virtually run into the grublins that were approaching. And even if he managed to fight his way through, there would likely be no escape from a grublin wielding a crossbow that would shoot him down in the open.

Escape was a futile effort, but he was going to try anyway.

The rocks went on for several hundred meters, lining the base of the forested mountain. Hunter zigzagged between the crevices in the rocks, only having a sense of which direction he was moving and nothing else.

And then, just as Hunter ran through a spacious gap in between the rocks, he saw the black moving blur of a creature to the left. He groaned, knowing that he was about his encounter with the mob was about to begin.

Trying to avoid being trapped against the rock walls, Hunter headed up the hill, trying to make it to the far edge of the rocky maze. In order to stay balanced, Hunter leaned forward as he bolted up the hill, pawpads making distinct tracks in the muddy soil. These tracks would make it an impossibility to try and hide from his pursuers, he realized. There was nothing else for it but to head for the roaring rapids of the river.

Fixing another arrow onto his bow, Hunter ran across the steep slope, ankles crying out from the stress that was being exerted on them. Paying no heed to the aching, Hunter remained on the same level, securing an uphill advantage. Every chance he could get some sort of upper hand on his enemies would serve to boost his slim chances of survival. That is, if there was any chance at all.

The first grublin emerged from the rocks, armed with a sword and small wooden shield. With amazing skill, Hunter whisked an arrow at the unlucky creature as he ran. It sank in to the depth of the feather flight, straight into the creature's chest. Spinning from the force of the impact, it crumpled to the ground, its scream the last thing it would utter.

Hunter made another arrow ready, aware that he was running low on ammunition. To his peril, four more of the hideous monsters came rushing toward him, raising their weapons for the kill. With unmatched speed, Hunter's arm worked like a machine, taking a split second to aim and fire two more arrows at the fast approaching group. The forerunners were slain in seconds, but the other two kept coming. Fighting for his life, the cheetah was only able to kill one more before the fourth was upon him.

Hunter saw the axe, and with fantastic balance, sidestepped it. The grublin stumbled forward from the weight of the weapon, and before he could pry it out of the dirt, Hunter had removed the boot knife he carried from its concealed sheath and stabbed it into the grublin's bony neck. Gurgling, it dropped like a log, blood streaming down its body. Keeping the knife at the ready, he turned tail and fled.

To his misfortune, however, the going only got steeper, and it became clear that he would not be able to keep his footing. Shuffling athletically, Hunter's footpaws chucked up an abundant amount of mud as he slid down. With a mighty leap, Hunter made it over the bottom portion of the hill, coming down hard on the slippery surface. Only his strong legs made him able to stay on his own two paws, and he re-entered the labyrinth of stones.

The high pitched wails of the grublins were all around him, and before he knew it, yet another one was visible behind him. Not able to fire behind him in these close quarters, he kept the bow gripped like a vise in his left paw, focusing his attention on not letting the bow get caught between two stones as he turned his body, leaping into a narrow gap between the two enormous rocks and landing with a wet thud on the other side. Scrambling to his feet, Hunter ran pell-mell away from his enemy. The grublin behind him attempted to jump through the gap in a similar fashion, but failed, its spear getting stuck in the rock. Hunter had no time to feel gratitude, only to concentrate on prolonging his life in order to lead the overwhelming force away from Korrow.

…

Following after the blood curdling sounds of the hunt, Korrow soon found the expansive area of rocks in which Hunter was currently traversing. Making a beeline, he ran parallel to them, trying to come out ahead of the crowd. Though he tried, it was obvious that he would have a very hard time keeping up with the bloodthirsty grublins due to his fatigue and injuries. Even so, he wasn't going to quit.

The whooshing roar of the river up ahead amplified, confirming Korrow's suspicions. The river was going to be too high to cross. It was as if everything that could possibly go wrong was occurring. His savior, who was almost certainly Hunter, would be trapped with a wall of grublins on one side of him, and a frothing rapid on the other. Essentially, he would either drown, or be hacked to bits.

Wheezing through clenched teeth, Korrow placed a hand on his ribs, a burning cramp forming in his side. Still, he didn't let his injuries and fatigue get in the way, due to the familiar stubborn determination powering him on, past the limits his body tried to impose on him. There was simply nothing else left to keep him moving.

With an absence of grace, Korrow fumbled over fallen branches and rotten logs, fighting despondency that tried to take him hostage. In fact, he didn't even know what he was going to do if he ever caught up to Hunter's pursuers, but he ran nonetheless. He was going to have to do a lot of improvisation when he reached the river.

…

A grassy strip of land opened up as Hunter emerged from the rocks, arrow once again notched onto his bowstring as he fled. Hard on his heels were Golinod's forces. Hunter looked over his shoulder, and to his horror, saw a crossbow bolt zooming straight for him. It was too late to dodge it, and a scream escaped his throat as it struck him in the right shoulder. A burning pain lanced through his entire upper body, and all feeling went away in his right arm as the muscle was severed. He couldn't use his bow and arrows any more, he realized with panic.

The crossbow bolt still lodged in his shoulder blade, he moved on, blocking out the pain with all he could muster. As a reflex, his right arm bunched up at his side as the muscle closed around the wound, and sticky, warm blood seeped out of the hole and down his back. Paying no mind to the arrow sticking out of his back, he vaulted up and over a flat rock, and unable to use his right arm, he shuffled awkwardly over it, pushing himself up with his left arm and coming down crookedly on the other side. Another crossbow bolt pinged off the top of the rock, deflected off into the woods. Yet another one buried itself in a tree right next to Hunter.

It was miraculous that Hunter even made it to the forest without being shot down, the only reason for his luck being that the grublins were terrible shots. Still, it only took one well-placed arrow to kill him, and if he became trapped in the open like he had been before, he wouldn't have luck on his side.

A spasm in the muscle around his wound sent excruciating pain down his back and right arm. Grunting, he clenched his hand involuntarily, squeezing the bow like a vise. His body pleaded with him to stop moving his injury. Evil vermin flooded the trees, snarling viciously as their quarry came into view and forcing Hunter to ignore his body's cries of protest.

Mingling in with the racket of the mob behind him was the rushing of water ahead. He was almost there, but there was a new problem. The rains would have made the river much deeper than usual, and the already audible thunderous boom of the water crashing into rocks only confirmed this fact. He cursed. There was no escape.

Golinod heard the river, too. Right away, he understood what would happen to the persistent cheetah when they reached the river. A shout of encouragement was combined with a whirl of his sword, "We've got him trapped! Kill him!"

The order reached Hunter's ears, doubling his efforts to get away. But, in the end, he knew there would be no means of escape. The cheetah had to fight his emotions in order not to panic in this hopeless situation.

At least Korrow was safe now, he remembered. The thought brought a thin smile to his lips. It was a bittersweet feeling.

Lungs heaving, Hunter finally saw the foliage above him peel away, unveiling the blue sky above. The river was fast approaching…

Without any warning, the ground disappeared several paces in front of him, a steep drop off into the raging waters below. Hunter's keen eyes spotted the edge of the land before it was too late to react. Both of his legs stopped moving entirely, but as he slid over the ground, the mud made it difficult to get enough traction to stop his forward motion. Always a fast thinker, Hunter twisted to the side, leaning backwards and dropping down into the ankle high mud with immense force, just missing the crossbow bolt which jutted out of his shoulder blade and stopping himself just before he slipped off. The force of the fall sent his bow out of his weakened grasp, and it fell over the edge and into the fast moving stream, sucked into the current and lost to sight. Excruciating pain exploded from his shoulder as the impact jarred his body, and this time, the agony was too much to simply ignore. A breathless groan escaped from between clenched teeth, but he somehow kept his focus in spite of the affliction of pain and stood, using his good arm to push his battered body up.

There were many indistinguishable blurs of grublins vanishing and reappearing from behind trees. The sound of the river combined with the bedlam of the grublin army was deafening. Unconsciously, Hunter stopped down to pick up his bow, but to his dismay, it was no longer there. It had dropped out of sight, into the whitewater.

The boot knife was clenched tight in Hunter's left hand. He knew he was going to die if he stayed here to fight. But, suddenly he was struck with an idea. Despite the depth of the water below, and the sharp rocks that could tear him to shreds, he knew that, just maybe, there would be a slim chance of survival if he jumped.

Knees still bent into a fighter's stance, Hunter froze. Only two options remained; fight, or jump. The first, a certain death, and the latter, a tiny chance of making it out alive. The choice was easy.

Golinod spied Hunter between openings in the trees, facing his army, a knife at the ready. Laughing, Golinod encouraged his forces, "Move in! Give me his head, grublins!"

And right at that moment, Hunter stuck the knife into his boot, turned, and without hesitation, leapt off the ledge and plummeted into the frothy rapids below.

…

Author's Note: Finally, it's done! Hallelujah!

Sorry for the ridiculous wait on the update, folks. It takes me a long time to ninja write chapters. And also, it seems to reduce the quality of my writing as well. When you're sneaking paragraphs in when nobody's looking, it doesn't give you as much time for thought. As a result, I feel like this chapter is really crappy for some reason. I might just be stupid, but I dunno.

Soon, chapters are going to begin to get longer as well. Unfortunately, that means even LONGER updates. Blargh.

Peace out~