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The escape felt endless for the pair of slaves.
Hitaru felt every step as an effort his body was no longer prepared to endure.
Exhaustion piled up without pause, but it was the constant pain—dragging on for hours—that slowed him even more.
Every movement tightened muscles that had not had time to recover.
Even so, he did not stop.
Layla didn't either.
Both of them knew there was a chance someone might be following them, but neither dared to check.
Looking back would only have made them lose the rhythm they struggled so hard to maintain.
They moved on like that for a stretch of time that became confusing to Hitaru.
The surroundings passed by without leaving much of an impression, reduced to shadows, damp earth, and the irregular sound of their own breathing.
When they finally found the river, Hitaru felt a brief sense of relief, more mental than physical.
He knew that point would allow them to orient themselves.
By following it, they could confirm the location of the village.
It wasn't a guarantee of safety, but it was a clear direction, and for now, that was enough to keep going.
As they drew closer, the pounding in his chest grew stronger.
He didn't know whether it was from the exertion or the accumulated tension.
They had no way of knowing if they would arrive in time, or if anyone would be willing to help them when they did.
Even so, the idea of stopping never crossed his mind.
When they finally made out the outskirts of the village—protected by a wooden palisade and watched by several guards—Hitaru felt urgency overpower his exhaustion.
They began to shout with the little voice they had left.
It wasn't planned.
It just happened.
They needed to be seen before their strength gave out completely.
"Help, please," Layla shouted, her voice breaking as she brought a hand to her chest, struggling not to collapse.
The guards reacted immediately.
They moved quickly, but without losing caution, keeping some distance as they approached.
Their eyes swept over the two youths, lingering on the obvious details.
Their clothes were dirty, torn, stiff with dried mud and old bloodstains.
Hitaru could barely stay on his feet. Most of his weight rested on Layla, more than she could really support.
"What happened to you?" one of the guards asked, frowning, his tone wavering between concern and suspicion.
Hitaru tried to respond.
He opened his mouth, but the words didn't come out as he expected.
His tongue felt heavy, and his head was spinning.
Pain and exhaustion wouldn't let him organize a clear explanation—especially not then.
When the guards pressed to question them right there, both of them shook their heads.
It wasn't a firm gesture, but it was enough to make it clear they couldn't stay standing much longer.
Though distrustful, the guards eventually gave in.
At a glance, they could have been beggars or fugitives, and that possibility didn't go unnoticed, but their condition was too obvious to ignore.
One of the guards stepped closer and placed Hitaru's arm over his shoulder to help him walk.
That was how they crossed the wooden walls protecting the village, passing first through fields full of crops.
As soon as they entered, Hitaru noticed several gazes settling on them.
Villagers nearby began to murmur, watching them with a mix of curiosity and wariness.
He didn't catch specific words, but he didn't need to.
The rumor spread quickly: two young people had arrived badly injured from outside, and they didn't look like ordinary folk.
For that reason, the three guards at the entrance decided to take them immediately to the nearest healer.
The walk was slow. Hitaru dragged his feet, focusing solely on not losing his balance.
More than once, he tried to warn them about a possible goblin attack.
He forced his voice, repeated the idea in different ways, but his words had no effect.
The guards seemed more concerned with reaching their destination quickly than with listening to warnings that, from their point of view, sounded exaggerated.
When they arrived at the healer's place, the guards made them sit in one of the corners.
The change of environment did nothing to ease the tension.
Hitaru and Layla found themselves surrounded by the three guards and a small crowd that had formed without anyone seeming to call it together.
The stares were direct, insistent.
The silence grew uncomfortable, heavy with expectation and suspicion.
Hitaru took a deep breath.
He felt the cold air fill his lungs and decided to speak before someone else did it for him.
He explained that they had escaped from a goblin village.
He said they had been pursued before fleeing and that there was a high probability the goblins would attempt an attack.
He insisted that the entrances be reinforced as soon as possible.
To make himself clearer, he described the layout of the village: the crop fields outside the walls, the houses forming a natural circle, and the small central plaza, exposed if someone managed to get inside.
He didn't get the reaction he expected.
Some immediately began to question him.
Others accused him of inventing stories to hide something else. The words "thief" and "fugitive" were repeated several times among the murmurs.
The looks hardened, and the tension increased without anyone needing to raise their voice.
Even so, Hitaru didn't give up.
With effort, he managed to convince one of the guards to go out and check the outskirts to verify the situation.
Doubt spread.
Several onlookers and the other guards decided to accompany him.
They left the village and carefully observed the surroundings, searching for clear signs that would confirm a real threat—or completely disprove the warning.
No one noticed the small, hooded figure watching them from a prudent distance.
It stayed there just long enough to see them go out and look around.
Then, without making a sound, it withdrew the same way it had come.
After finding no obvious signs of danger, everyone returned inside the walls.
This time, they gathered in the middle of the plaza.
Hitaru and Layla were surrounded again, and the interrogation became harsher.
Accusations piled up quickly.
Some spoke of exemplary punishment.
Others suggested hanging them to prevent future problems.
Hitaru clenched his teeth.
He didn't have the strength to argue, but he couldn't accept that without reacting either.
Fatigue weighed on his body, but impotence was what hurt the most.
Then it happened.
From outside the village, smoke began to rise.
At first it was just a thin dark trail.
Then another appeared, and then several more.
They came from different points around the walls.
The conversation stopped abruptly.
Guards and villagers froze, staring without knowing how to react.
Hitaru lowered his gaze.
He knew it.
The smoke thickened quickly, reducing visibility.
For an instant, the sense of being trapped became clear. War cries began to echo from every entrance.
The active guards didn't react in time, and the inactive ones even less, lacking immediate access to weapons.
Chaos spread unchecked.
Hitaru grabbed Layla's hand and started running without thinking.
They headed for the first large house he managed to spot amid the disorder.
They shoved the door open, rushed inside, and climbed to the top floor.
There, they slipped into one of the rooms, closed it as best they could, and hid.
They stayed silent, holding their breath, curled up in a fetal position.
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