The things we do for hate

The incessant barking of the hunting dogs grew louder and closer with every long stride I took, while the running footfalls of the palace guards softened in the seemingly endless darkness of the night. I vaulted over another low branch. It was low for me, but was actually five feet off the ground. Not to make you think I’m a giant or something. The snarling hounds did the same, being trained to do what they were doing now: hunting bandits. Hopping over another shrub, I underestimated the height and ended up tearing the dark coarse cloak that I had concealed myself with. My bare feet pounded against the mucky ground, rocks, thorns and roots but I still kept a steady pace away from the bloodthirsty demons.

Over my head, large shadowing trees obscured what light there was of the full moon, leaving the path barely illuminated. It was all I needed though. I probably couldn’t say the same thing for the group that was tailing me. More than once had I heard the occasional thud from a blind trip.

The loud barks were accompanied by the slashing and slicing of fancy sabers, the breaking and felling of trees and branches, indicating I had to pick up the pace in this hell of a forest. Finally the bright orb of light emerged from a giant cloud, shining its dazzling rays on the forest, or more correctly on me, revealing my whereabouts to the dogs and guards.

I swore under my breath, words that shouldn’t be heard by children under the age of 14, and risked looking over my shoulder. I swore again to see that four pointy-eared, black-furred, frothing-at-the-mouth, sharp-toothed, cat-chasing, tree-peeing hounds of hells snapping at my heels with grim determination. Pouring on more power and energy to quicken my pace, I ran, with the sole purpose of keeping my foot from being ripped off.

Looking back one more time, I spotted five armed guards, all decked out in feathered hats and flowing capes, all brandishing very pretty pieces at me dangerously. They  yelled a bunch of stupid things to get me to stop, like “Halt!”, “In the name of the Prince, we command you to stop!!!” and the most hilarious of all was yelled by the leader of this specific troupe, a man named Michel, who fell back at the first sprint, “Come back!!!!...please?”

That had offset me since then, resulting in me cracking up from laughter every few MINUTES.

Anyway, of course, I didn’t obey them and kept on running, trying to appear all confident and conceited that I would elude capture, putting on another one of my famous facades. For all they know, I’m just a wittle old bwandit, who keeps running circles around them. He he…

I was, however, only concentrating on one goal.

Escaping.

Jumping over another thorn bush, I winced at the pain as some of my skin was ripped off by the hazardous thorns. Blood began to gush at my heels almost instantly as well as the pain exploding everytime my foot hit the ground. I lost what little footing I had and tumbled into a pile of red and yellow leaves. Luckily.

The barking and slashing got louder and the footsteps stopped until I could practically reach out and touch one of the men’s fancy looking boots. The plants and trees rustling with a gentle breeze was the only sound that could be heard. I couldn't stand being here any longer. I burst out of the pile of leaves swinging my weapon around at the guards who looked as if they wet their pants in shock. I smirked and lashed out at them, grinning confidently as their swords dropped as well as some of their fingers. As the men dropped to the floor in pain, I used my whip to swing from tree to tree until I was free of the forest, yelling “Catch me if you can, you bastard Prince!!!!”