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Forde ran hard, his ragged breaths hanging in the frigid night air. Every step caused a new explosion of pain in his sides, but he dare not stop, not until his pursuers had lost much ground. He ran into the night, frozen branches slapping at his arms and face, beating him mercilessly as he ran on in the forest. Suddenly, he darted to his right, and continued that way for a while, until he heard voices ahead of him. He jumped into a ditch under a tree, and listened.
“The boss’s gonna be really mad.” A rough voice quivered.
“Well, you’re the one who decided to try to ambush him!” a second voice snarled.
“Both of you shut up! I think I heard something over here” a third, commanding voice ordered. There was a rustling of bushes, and Forde stopped breathing. The bandits were right outside his hideout. If they catch me… no, it doesn’t bear thinking about. He thought, beginning to panic.
The bandits were very close now, searching, listening for anything out of the ordinary. Then one of them bent down to inspect the ground for tracks.
“Boys, I got us something!” he bellowed, waving his arm in the direction of the others. They saw Forde’s tracks, and followed them towards the tree. It’s now or never, Forde thought, tensing for the charge. As they neared the dugout, he sprang up; screaming in a tone that he hoped was barbaric. It wasn’t. As two of the bandits fell down laughing, the third picked Forde up by the ankle, and smiled gruesomely as he brought his axe to Forde’s head. What happened to today? It was so good, he thought, as pain flared up behind his eyes.
