To Cheat A Curse

Chapter 1: Meetings

Myghal hadn't seen grass in years.

He stopped his horse as the mountain trail opened upon a valley. Southern Country was mostly rolling hills which ended at the edge of lush tree lines. The clouds were parting, the snow had stopped, and there was grass. Lush, green grass.

His pause was interrupted by a hawk's call. Lifting a hand to his brow, he blocked out the trickling sun in search of wings. There, from the east, a hawk rose above the treetops. It circled, wide on a current, and dove beneath the limbs.

"Better keep moving," he patted the horse's neck before urging them forwards. Coming down from the Arctic Ridge, he had already gained far too much attention. It had been his shaggy horse and the furs, bear pelts and deer skin, that stood out to the people of Alkstead. They had stared. So, he traded what he could: the bear pelt, his quilted coat and any gear associated with the Northmen. He kept the hide boots and his fighting staff.

Throughout town a shadow continuously caught his eye. Seeming a trick at first, he finally spotted the hooded cloak as it slid behind a covered wagon. It was time to move on. He was still too close to the Arctic Ridge and Northmen scouts could easily follow him here. He exchanged the heavy tack at the stable, settling for something of a lower grade for lack of time and in need of something more fitting for the area. On his way out, he bought only a few provisions and took to the road. As they moved, he kept glancing for the skies and into the trees, taking turns south whenever he could.

By the next morning he still felt the northern border was still too close. He couldn't ignore the menacing air coming down from the mountains. Maybe he was paranoid. Maybe years of forced warfare under arctic warlords made him abnormally anxious. Or, maybe, the idea of what they would do if the found him kept him restless. Regardless, his native home was months, if not years away, and he wouldn't get there any sooner by taking his time.

He only stopped when he came across a river. Letting the horse rest while he bathed and shaved, it was all he dared to spare. He took turns walking and riding, not wanting to tire out the shaggy, cold climate steed. For now, it was the only transportation he had besides his own legs, and he doubted they would get him very far. Escape hadn't been easy. Tired, sore, and hungry, walking was enough to run him down.

Something about the trees kept him moving. Whatever it was, it felt like it was following him. It kept bringing to mind the cloaked figure he had seen in Alkstead, and the hawk flying over the trees. Too many scouts used birds and if had been one, he couldn't stop to rest. Not that he hadn't expected as much. In merely considering escape he knew someone would come after him. The Northmen would send hunters, trackers, warriors skilled in pursuit, he simply hadn't considered it would happen so soon.

The hills became engulfed by trees, the road south becoming shaded, almost like a tunnel burrowing straight through the thickest part of the forest. His head kept on a swivel, eyes wide, ears open, jolting at any faint snap or hiss back in the woods. Lone roads like this were perfect for trackers. Some place they didn't have to be seen, bearing no witnesses. A horse snorted –not his horse. His stomach knotted, gripping the knife on his belt as he slowly turned to look over his shoulder.

A hooded figure rode behind him, a distance back, just far enough to quiet the sound of hoof beats. They didn't hurry, lanky horse at a leisure stride, as dark as their cloak. Myghal turned back, attempting to keep tension from his shoulders to alert them. Knowing they had been spotted, it wouldn't take long for them to act. Myghal focused on the trail ahead, searching for any shadows attempting to head him off. His ears, however, were locked on the faint, off rhythm of the horse behind him. After a while, he nudged his steed into a trot.

Hooves behind him picked up in speed.

Myghal glanced over his shoulder, the cloaked rider copied, their horse's long legs beginning to close the gap. He was being followed. No telling just how long. With a flick of the reins, Myghal urged his horse into a gallop. The tracker looked small, narrow, and he was sure if he couldn't outrun them, he could fight them.