Autolycus felt his heart pounding as he left the Temple and moved swiftly after Velaska. Was it because he was running, or because he was completely terrified? No matter, either way he'd gone crazy—that was all there was to it. No time to stop now.
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Velaska strode steadily through the forest. A rustling of branches and leaves ahead—and a sound of yodeling. She stopped and looked up curiously, and saw a glimpse of green in a different shade from the foliage, and then a flash of reflected light. She smiled, predatory. Someone else come to play.
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As soon as he knew himself seen, Autolycus relocated to behind another tree. He wore the pendant now, and he was sure she'd been able to glimpse it.
Velaska looked confident, unconcerned. That was good (he tried to tell himself)—she'd be easy to distract for a while: he'd let her think he was entertaining her.
Mustering up all his braggadocio, he called out a taunt. If he could rattle her, while still staying just out of reach, he'd succeed. At first, she stayed calm—amused, watching.
When the explosion blew up the tree he'd just been hiding behind, he began to feel a tad uncertain about this plan. But, that meant she was taking him seriously, right?
He fled from hiding spot to hiding spot, and then, rolling away from another splintered tree, he set off in a panicked run in the opposite direction from where the mad goddess had been heading—in the opposite direction from Gabrielle, hoping Velaska would follow him.
After a bit he realized he had heard nothing, and looked back—yes, Velaska was there, coming after him. This was working. He tried another taunt as he ran. "You never did show me what you can do with pain."
He caught a glimpse of a twisted smile on her face. Success, he thought ruefully—she was thoroughly distracted now. He might be able to keep this up for some time.
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A good portion of the day later, he'd learned that she could drain herself of her energy with the explosions, and knew he'd pulled her well off of her path. But, even drained, she was inexorable. He wondered how much longer he could keep running—he felt completely tired, that sensation almost overcoming the terror. He'd managed to provoke her into taunts of her own, which were by turns ridiculous and chilling.
She'd just bragged again on her expertise with pain. From an almost safe distance away, he called out, "All talk! I don't believe you!"
Shortly thereafter, she caught up to him, and began methodically proving him wrong.
