He ran towards the Golden Forest with all the strength he had and all the sanity that remained.
There was no time to sorrow, no time to scream at the world, no time to think.
Just run.
Run and run until he was back at the cave, where what was important to him awaited.
It's funny, really.
No matter how much one suffers, how much one doubts, once something worse happens, it's like the rest didn't even matter.
Or at least not as much as one thought it did.
Man is a creature who suffers.
And when he suffers, he finds purpose in it.
If there is no purpose to be had, no suffering to go through, he begins doubting, awaiting the suffering as if it's a certainty.
And that doubt creates suffering, creating purpose as well.
Humankind is a weird lot like that.
Happiness, love, and comfort all have one thing in common.
They end.
And when they end, suffering follows. And, we all know by now, that purpose arises.
No matter how much the man swears, curses, or cries about the situation he finds himself in, only when he suffers does he act upon it.
Truly, the funniest joke there ever will be.
Blanc did not even stop running when he approached the corpse-filled entrance of the forest, or how much sound he made at that moment.
He knew nobody could follow. Not at his speed.
He stepped over them as if they were steps.
Running, jumping, until the sea of bodies was left behind him.
He did not look back at them.
He couldn't care less.
What he cared about was in front of him, deep in the woods.
And he did not know how much time he had or how close to the cave the Morois were.
One thing was certain.
They were looking for them or for fugitive soldiers, allowing the Morois to hunt to their starving hearts' content.
And they will find them sooner or later.
That much was certain.
If they had enough time, he would suggest they leave.
However, who knows how much it will take them to pack everything for a long journey?
They will have to walk through who knows how many cities or villages, wherever they are headed.
And if possible, through wilderness as well, despite the risk, since their appearances would surely draw attention.
But another problem arises, one Blanc already dreaded not to think about.
Kael and Lune.
They cried for a few days in the wild, but what will weeks or even months do to them?
And Celine will only get worse at traveling as the pregnancy continues to advance. Wilderness is surely out of the question, or at least not the entirety of the way.
And Miyanna?
What about her?
I'm not sure yet. But she lied to me. She hid things from me.
And that is unforgivable… I think.
There is no time then.
No time to pack everything and run.
They will need at least a day for that.
Which means they will most likely have to fight with the Morois.
How many are there?
While he thought about the near future and what they had to do to survive this situation as well, Blanc, in his speed, had already passed the lake where he had earlier talked with the Creature of True Vita.
It was not there anymore.
He was drawing closer to the cave.
The next point he had to pass was the place where he fought the lynx, which was ten minutes away from him at the speed he was running.
He had at least four hours until dawn.
Plenty of time.
He moved fast, a good thing at least.
But a wild, painful shriek was heard in the distance.
The issue was that it was between him and the path he usually took.
Should he make a detour?
No, a detour will take too long.
He needed to move fast, regardless of how far away the dawn still was.
Shining light came through the trees here and there as he approached.
Was it the creature of True Vita?
What was happening?
As he came in front of the action, he stopped suddenly.
The light was blinding as he found himself mere feet away from it and what it was fighting against.
The Morois.
They were tall. At least eight feet tall.
Their skin was a pale gray, their mouths agape and full of sharp fangs, and their eyes an eerie white.
They had long hands that came down from their shoulders, down below the knees.
And the claws that stood at the top of their malformed hands were as long and as sharp as knives.
Blanc watched as twelve Morois clashed against the deer, fox, and eagle of True Vita.
One of them darted up a tree, claws digging into the bark with terrifying speed.
Then it loosed a shriek so primal it pierced Blanc's soul, forcing his body to react before his mind could.
Instinctively, he drew his sword, hurled himself toward the shining eagle, seized one of its wings mid-flight, and with a sickening crunch tore it apart, sending the great bird crashing to the ground.
Blanc was frozen on his feet, his brain in turmoil between fleeing towards the cave or helping the creature.
The deer noticed his arrival as the female voice began flowing towards Blanc's ears as it fought.
"Child of man. Why are you here? Run away," said the female voice in the same beautiful, composed manner as it spoke before.
"Can I help you?" Blanc asked.
"There is nothing you could do," replied the voice.
Blanc took a sudden step towards the fight, yet the female voice spoke again.
"There are too many. They will defeat us if we have to defend you as well. Run and get to your loved ones until they arrive. We will make sure as few of them get to you before that."
"Why don't you use your magic? Why fight physically?" yelled Blanc to them, drawing the attention of a Moroi who was fighting the deer nearby.
The Moroi loosed an unearthly screech, baring its too many rows of fangs.
Then it dropped to all fours, its long arms digging deep into the earth.
Then, in a blur, it launched itself, claws outstretched, aimed straight at Blanc's chest.
Ready to tear its next victim in half.