There was only one man among the bandits—a beastkin—who stepped out onto the plains from the forest. His cloak was torn near to shreds and covered in dirt. The attack on the border station had failed, and so he had elected to switch strategies and plunge into the forest...alone.
When he had initially entered the forest with his comrades, they had hastily put together a plan to buy him the time necessary to get away. That plan seemed to have gone swimmingly, and the last remaining bandit smiled to himself at the thought.
What matters isn’t the guys you can’t even call your brothers, it’s the money. I made it out alive. I am the lone survivor and the lone success story here.
The bandit’s clothes were covered in the feces of wild forest animals, but the stench was worth it for the effect it had on hiding his trail. He looked up at the sky as dawn began to break, and put his game face on—his job was not done yet. The bandit trudged through the grass, knowing that there was a village out there somewhere. After some time walking, the bandit spotted a few small dogs.
Dogs? But—wait, no, they’re clothed... Are they beastkin children? Does that mean their village is somewhere nearby? But that can’t be... I can’t see or smell anything in the immediate vicinity. But I’ll bet that one of those little guys knows where I can find the village, and it can’t hurt to have a hostage if I happen to need one...
The bandit ducked into the grass and crept closer towards the dogkin pups happily walking along the road under the light of the rising sun. It was not long before the bandit had circled behind the children, and he stood to capture one in one fell swoop, but before he could he felt hands reaching out to grab him. They came together with a tremendous, unforgivingly heavy pressure, and the bandit quickly rolled away and turned to see a massively muscular man with golden hair standing before him. On his face was a portrait of rage for the bandit’s attempt to lay hands on a dogkin pup.
Oh damn, I just stepped in it for real this time...
The bandit kept his scream from rending the air and instead scrambled away on all fours with all the beastkin speed his body had. He plunged back into the forest, but the golden-haired man was hot on his heels. His back was straight and his arms and legs moved with startling consistency. On top of that, he was fast.
The bandit was in such a panic that the hood of his cloak fell from his head, revealing the head of a wolf. Still on four legs, he continued to run, but no matter where he went, the man was on his trail, even though it was clear he was just a human.
How is a human staying on me like this?!
His urge to scream intensified, but the bandit pushed it away as he sped through the forest. There was no shortage of hiding places here, and he weaved between trees until he saw the perfect place to hide and dove behind a rock. The space underneath the rock had been dug out slightly, and the bandit huddled inside, covering himself with nearby leaves. He knew he was safe and that his scent was still masked by the feces he was covered in.
No dog or boarkin will find this wolfkin, no matter how sharp their noses...
His heart pounded as though to burst through his ribs, and his lungs burned desperately for air, but he killed the urge through sheer force of will. The bandit felt certain his pursuer might yet hear him, and so he kept his breathing to the bare minimum, even covering his mouth with a hand to further silence any utterance he might make. He was sweating all over, snot poured from his nostrils, and tears flooded from his eyes.
Just a little more... I just have to hold on a little more; then I’ll have intel, and then I’ll have money, and then all of this will be over and I’ll have my dreams right in my hands!
The bandit tried to calm himself with his thoughts, but they offered no solace as hulking footsteps closed in on him and trudged towards the rock under which the bandit hid. Was it the man’s nose? Was it his ears? Or was it instinct that had led him here? The bandit could not comprehend how he had been found, but he knew that he had, for the man’s hand reached down, under the rock.
“Damn it all!”
The bandit knew he’d been spotted, and with a frustrated growl he took off once more. But no matter where he stopped to hide, the human always found him. He hid in a muddy swamp, in a flowing stream, up a tree, under a small rocky outcrop, in the hollow of a tree trunk, and finally, when every other option had been exhausted, he merely leaned against the back of a large tree. It offered barely any cover, but the bandit was at the end of his rope—tears blurred his vision as he held his breath, holding out for a tiny sliver of hope and praying that the human would just disappear.
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