Arin swallowed. It was now or never.
As silently as he could, with the lightest of footsteps, he slunk back into the shadows. Keeping an eye on the scythe-wielding figure, he avoided the dull moonlight as he crept back along the way he'd come. Then, changing directions, he resumed his furtive walk in the direction of the collapsed section of Lullwater's boundary.
In a stroke of unexpected luck, Arin didn't encounter anyone else. Soon, he was shuffling over to the wall. He noticed it was the only thing in the village that still looked similar to what he'd seen during the day, albeit from the outside.
The entirety of the wall was in a state of disrepair. The structure itself was crumbling, and parts of it leaned at odd, dangerous angles. Vines and creeping moss had claimed much of the stone, dark tendrils snaking up the weathered surface and clinging to any cracks like some sort of parasite.
The earth at its base was also somewhat uneven, smothered in a mass of weeds and old, broken rock. Arin eyed it apprehensively. He knew it would only make getting a stable footing all the more treacherous.
The collapsed area had two large gaps yawning open in between the jagged outcrops of broken stone. There was a point at which he would have to make it over only about five feet of wall before being able to jump off on the other side.
This is it.
Arin carefully rotated his injured shoulder, observing the gap. With Rin's height, he could easily look over it, and into the world beyond. In the distance were scattered trees that marked the beginning of the forest to the east. Even the thought of that maddening expanse felt like a welcome change from Lullwater.
Arin reached up his hands to get a firm hold on the broken edges, then stopped. He thought he'd heard a soft clatter.
Was that a piece of stone, falling off the wall? Was it starting to fall apart?
He strained his ears. There it was again – a soft, clattering sound, like a small pebble rolling away. On a whim, Arin ducked.
SWOOSH!
A large scythe swung through where his head had just been.
Mouth agape in shock, Arin followed the silvery afterimage left by the swift motion of the tool. Still crouching, he turned his head to look behind himself. The hulking figure from the gate was standing right there.
For one, brief second, Arin looked up into the blood-streaked, withered face of what must have once been an exceptionally tall, strapping villager. The man's hollow sockets seemed to hold his terrified gaze, even as his wasted lips remained pulled into an unnatural, empty grin.
'Holy fu- '
Gasping sharply, Arin clambered to one side. He jumped to his feet, leaping backwards as another, unrelenting swing came his way.
SWOOSH!
SWOOSH!
THUD – CRACK!
The scythe hit a jutting section of the wall, knocking off the piece with appalling ease. There was a horrifying strength behind the gigantic man's blows. It was unpleasantly reminiscent of a certain vindictive lake; only this time, Arin didn't have a dragon to carry him away to safety.
Unfazed by the miss, the villager readjusted his aim and swung at him again.
And again.
And again.
'Man, stop! Stop! I'm – I'm not the one,' Arin gasped as he ducked, 'Who did this… To you!' He tried reasoning with the man, running and weaving through his swipes. It was to no avail.
This villager didn't even bother with calling him a monster or a murderer. He didn't say anything at all. He just struck.
Arin knew he couldn't let it go on like this. He wasn't a fighter, damn it! He'd only managed to make it this far thanks to Rin's strength and superior reflexes. In his own, untrained body, he would've long since been turned into a pile of mincemeat on the ground. Even so, a single error of judgement would still result in his head flying clean off.
More importantly, Arin knew that the commotion would soon draw the attention of others who wanted him dead.
He doubted whether even Rin's physique would last long against two villagers with scythes.
As cautiously as he could manage, Arin deliberately started dodging in the direction of the village. Without the time to come up with a viable strategy, he'd decided to follow the first, half-baked plan that came to his mind.
If he managed to lead his attacker far away enough from the wall, he might be able to turn around and outrun him on the way back. And if he was quick enough, he might be able pull himself up through the gap and out of Lullwater before the scythe-wielding villager could reach him. And then…. Well, then, he might be able to escape into the forest and find a better hiding spot amidst the trees.
Or he might die. At any step of this so-called plan, he might die.
Arin stumbled a little as he avoided yet another swing. He dodged behind a rotting wooden fencepost, which was sliced in two with the ease of cutting butter. Finally, panting and helpless, he backed up against the side of one of the houses at the edge of the village.
The hulking man approached him in silence. There was no trace of anger, or malice, or even the satisfaction of victory on his face. In a smooth, swift motion, he lifted his scythe once again, and swung it down at Arin's head with a dooming finality.
Now!
Arin ducked low under his raised arm, and shot forward towards the boundary wall.
He hated having his back turned to that man. He also knew that if he turned to look, even for a moment, he would be done for. And so, heart pounding and blood rushing in his ears, all Arin could do was keep running.
Twenty feet... Fifteen feet... Ten… Five... There!
Arin planted his outstretched hands on the edge of the wall, kicking off the ground to boost himself over the gap. He could hear the heavy thudding of boots right behind him – the villager was almost here! – but he had nearly made it. Just a few more inches and he could vault over to the other side –
Crrrk.
Crack.
The stone under his right hand gave way, crumbling under his weight. Arin let out a strangled sound of despair, losing his balance and slipping back to the ground. Back to where the scythe-wielding man awaited him, with the promise of certain death.
His right hand scrambled, struggling to find some hold, even as his left arm strained to pull him up alone. He could! But he wouldn't be fast enough to lift his whole body in time. He wouldn't –
In spite of himself, Arin twisted his neck to look at the final swing that was surely coming to cleave his torso in two.
Instead, he saw the hulking villager a couple of feet away from him, fighting off a clinging mass of weeds and vines that tangled around his feet. Long tendrils had climbed up his torso to wind up his arms and wrap around his face. The man used his free hand to pull them off, only to have more vines take their place.
'Go. Quickly.'
Another villager stood in the distance. There was something familiar about his appearance, through his blood-stained and wasted visage. It took a moment for Arin to recognize him as the jolly man who had first greeted him upon his entry into Lullwater.
Sir Garan, as Layla had called him.
'Quick, boy. I'm not… strong… anymore. Won't hold him… for long.'
At the same time, Arin felt the wall stabilize under him. The plants growing in the cracks had lengthened and wrapped around the crumbling stone, holding it in place. Not needing to be told twice, Arin swung his legs to one side, finally fully climbing into the gap. Using the same momentum, he rolled over and down the other side of the wall.
He had left Lullwater.