As he moved, he could hear the sound of dry leaves crunching under his bleeding soles. He didn’t know how long he had been running, he had lost his watch to the ritualists. On their own accord his legs began to reduce their pace, he paused to catch his breath. He was tired; there was only so much his starved body could take. For a moment, his mind reverted to the other captives being held at the mud shrine. Ignoring the painful feeling of pebbles digging into his cut flesh he propelled his legs forward. He had to keep moving.