Ki looked like a walking corpse.
His steps had no direction. His body burned with fever. Flies hovered around him, drawn to the stench of sweat and rot. If this wasn't hell, then hell was jealous.
Four days had passed since the hunt began.
Four days of drinking from muddy puddles. Four days of scavenging whatever scraps his hands could reach. Four days fueled by nothing but the stubborn will to stay alive.
At night, there was no rest.
Kenji's face haunted him in his dreams, eyes hollow with accusation. The scarred man followed just behind, always close enough to breathe down his neck. No matter where Ki ran, he felt watched.
He hid from every sound.
Soldiers. Thieves. Mercenaries.
Everyone was hunting him.
Somewhere in his chest, a small hope still clung to life. That his friends were safe. That someone would come for him. That he would see them again.
But his body was failing.
And hope was fading.
He wondered if he would even make it out alive. If he would ever stand beside them again. He bit down on his trembling lip and forced himself forward.
Then he saw light.
No trees. No shadows.
A field.
The sudden sunlight blinded him as he staggered out of the forest. Before him stood a rugged village. Broken. Worn. Alive, but barely.
People were everywhere.
And they looked just like him.
Starving. Hollow. Wounded by the world.
Every eye followed him.
Cold. Sharp. Measuring.
Leaning heavily on his stick, Ki dragged himself forward until he reached an inn.
Inside, there was only an old woman and a young girl. The girl was thin, her bones pressing against her skin.
His vision swayed.
Still, he forced his voice to work.
"A room… and food."
He slid a single gold coin onto the counter.
The last one he had.
The old woman smiled.
Too quickly.
She led him down the hall and opened a room. As soon as he stepped inside, the door slammed shut behind him.
Ki barely registered it.
He stripped off his filthy clothes and collapsed onto the bed. Naked. Weak. Empty.
Sleep swallowed him whole.