Dylan's POV
It had been about a week since Dylan and his companion, Julius, had managed to slip out of death's net. Since then, they had holed up in a remote area far to the south of Pilaf County. Judging by the scenery, they'd even crossed its borders—the forest here looked more like the uninhabited central territories that Pilaf and Martissant were currently fighting over.
"Damn it! And here I thought I was done with this nomad-forest life…" Dylan grumbled, gripping the trunk of a tree. Not the largest in the forest, but still too thick for his arms to wrap around. He hugged it anyway and, with a sharp effort, ripped it out of the ground, roots and all.
The weight nearly pulled him backwards, but he dug in his legs just in time to avoid falling. Leaves rustled, branches smacked into their neighbors. Without wasting a second, he swung the trunk and let it crash to the ground with a heavy thud that made the earth shiver.
