Arin stayed in place as the angry voices resounded in his vicinity. His heart was pounding, and the adrenaline coursing through his veins made each breath feel shallow. The cold air bit at his exposed skin, and he suddenly realized he'd left Rin's cloak behind in that spare room where he'd slept.
Oh well, at least he'd remembered to bring the lizard.
The villagers, thankfully, didn't stop to investigate the coop. They carried on down the dirt path. As Arin focused on the sound of their footsteps, his ears also picked up on something much worse accompanying them; the eerie, scraping noise of some heavy, metal tool being dragged along the ground.
The cold seeped into his chest, freezing his heart in the grip of fear. He couldn't help but shudder at the thought of what might be happening to him if he hadn't hidden in time.
He waited in the shadows, not daring to move an inch.
When the last echo of heavy boots and ragged breathing finally faded into the distance, Arin let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. His chest still thudded from the terror he'd just experienced, and he blinked hard as beads of sweat stung his eyes.
His mind was whirling with a jumble of questions. Even so, Arin knew that any answers would have to wait.
He had long since given up on holding onto any delusions of helping, or saving, anyone in Lullwater. The kindly and welcoming villagers of the daytime were now patrolling the streets, ready to bash his head in if they so much as saw a single strand of Rin's curly hair.
'…some are angry,' Layla had told him.
But why with him? Was it because he was an outsider? Did an outsider do… this, to them?
…to Layla?
No. He couldn't afford to think about that right now. He couldn't think about her, and of the horror, and bewilderment, and sadness he'd felt. Arin knew he was only alive thanks to Layla. She had bought him time, and it was her warning that had saved him. And because he trusted her, Arin knew he couldn't remain here, hidden in the safety of shadows.
Layla had said, no, insisted, that he must find a way to leave Lullwater before dawn.
Arin rose on shaky legs. He belatedly realized that his injured back had long been protesting his impromptu midnight jog, and was now twinging in discomfort with every motion. Yeah, well, you're not special, torso. The rock thrown at his head had also left a small, painful bump just above his ear.
Bending down low, he started moving slowly as he navigated the aged buildings. Once or twice, he nearly tripped because of the overgrown weeds tangling around his feet. In those instances, Arin had to bite his lip and count to fifty in his head, just to make sure he hadn't been heard, and wouldn't be having hordes of possessed, insane villagers rushing up to him with farming tools and burning torches.
'Burn the witch!' They'd yell, like extras in some b-grade medieval horror flick.
Shut up, brain. Focus.
Arin continued onwards as carefully as he could, avoiding the main path. He could feel his calves stiffening and neck starting to strain from remaining hunched over.
The decaying village was a maze at night. It seemed entirely different from what he'd remembered seeing in the safe blur of Layla's company.
Now, under the moon's indifferent eye, each turn looked like a trap. Houses leaned in close, and their windows looked like gaping eyes searching for him. So focused was he on evading their view that he almost didn't notice the pale, gray face in a doorway on the other side of the street. Almost.
Arin sucked in a quick breath, freezing in place.
At least he now knew for sure he'd be the dumbass that gets caught and killed in the opening scene of the horror movie.
…Shut up.
The seconds ticked by as Arin stared at the horrifying, withered face across the path. The face stared back. In a way. His hollowed, bleeding eye sockets were trained in his direction, anyway.
Should he make a run for it, noise be damned? In any case, his stealth strategy wasn't going to work if the man called the other villagers over. Would he be able to silence the man before he did? Was it even possible to knock out someone who was already, well, dead?
Just as Arin had made up his mind start running again, the withered villager, very slowly, turned to look away. Still standing in the doorway of what must have been his house, he raised his head to look up at the stars.
He just looked sad.
Arin took in a deep breath, then another. He felt a twinge of heartache as he took in the scene. Right before he turned to be on his way, he noticed a small, rotting swing lying broken under a tree by that man's house.
Over the next couple of hours, Arin was very careful. Every time he thought he'd heard a noise, he would flatten himself in the shadows, or crouch behind bushes, sometimes for well over ten minutes. He would scan along the path twice or thrice before moving onwards, towards the exit.
Twice, he took a wrong turn and ended up in an unfamiliar part of the village. Even so, he was able to identify certain features he recalled and quickly correct his path. He did quite well, considering he'd only seen the way once, and hadn't exactly been focused on memorizing it.
For the first time, Arin was glad his job required him to notice details.
Finally, he saw wooden posts that had once been cozy thatch shades. He was nearly at the exit.
Then, just as the gates came into view, Arin stopped short.
A tall, hulking figure stood directly in front of the exit. Arms loose at its sides and head tilted to one side, it looked to be waiting. The moonlight caught on something metallic in the figure's hand. It was a rusted farming scythe, long and curved.
The figure seemed to notice something. It stirred, its weapon dragging a gouge through the dirt as it moved ever so slightly side to side.
Arin ducked behind a stone wall, heart leaping into his throat.
Right. He was not making it through the gate with that thing there. Not without being seen.
The figure shifted, taking a slow step in his direction. The metal scraped again.
Arin looked around desperately. There were no better hiding spots. No easy distractions. No weapons. Nothing at all.
Layla's warning rang loud in his head.
'Leave Lullwater before dawn.'
The exit was right there!
But he couldn't. Not with that guy in his way. He might as well stay hidden. What's the worst that could happen?
…on second thought, don't answer.
Arin's hands clenched around the ends of his sleeves. He took in a shaky breath, forcing himself to calm down. It was fine.He'd be fine.
There was another way out, after all.
When he'd first seen the boundary wall around the village, upon walking out of the apple orchard, he'd noticed parts of it that had collapsed entirely. At first, Arin hadn't considered climbing over those sections in order to make his escape. It would be incredibly dangerous, after all; the weathered rock might give way and crumble further. He might even be terribly injured.
But now…