(Semi-Haitus) "Run..." . . . . The yells of townsfolk filled the stormy woodlands, as their cries and pleas for safety fall upon deaf ears. . . . . "I have to keep running..." . . . . The fire in the distance rages on, giving the once grayish blue sky a smoggy orange hue. Dark smoke covers even the tallest of the trees, suffocating the many wildlife who hide within the large branches. . . . . "They're getting closer...!" . . . . Marching boots splash along the muddied ground, as they track down the hoove prints left in the mud. With their crossbows and blades readied, they track down the small satyr, their boss' authoritative tone never leaving their minds. . . . . "Run...Run run run RUNRUNRUNRUN . . . . (STILL A WORK IN PROGRESS!!!) (NAME IS DEFINITELY GOING TO CHANGE!!!!)