68, Spring, 514 AV
The woman grinned immediately as the words left his lips. She waved for the others that hid away in the tall grass. So that's where they were... They were basically right behind him, ready to pounce at him. He could hear the fauna rustle from their movement, causing his horse to scrape at the ground nervously. The woman's voice brought back his attention from the horse. "We've got other stuff to do for now." Probably searching for more runaway slaves to recruit. Chayton still had a hard time believing that there was an actual hidden society just to free slaves! If they had just been here a few more minutes earlier... They could have saved Ross from Chayton's failed attempt... "What I suggest is that you get rid of your horse." His horse? Chayton's eyes darted over to the beastie, it's ears still twitching for the calvary slinking away. "Sell it back in the city, whatever. No one's going to remember your face if you cover it with a hood. You're no slave, so you'll be fine." That's what she thought anyway. He tentatively listened, forcing his body to avoid his own hand. Don't scratch it, don't look at it. He nodded slowly as she also started to walk backward. "Sell off your horse, then when you feel like actually making a petching difference in life, find your way back to the swamps. Survive there for a few days. We'll be watching. We'll know you're there. And when we can accurately make the conclusion that you won't slow us down by dying in the place right away, we'll take you in. Sounds good?" He didn't hesitate, hastily nodding in agreement. And the lady kept speaking.
So this is what his father wanted to run away to. Not this specific location perhaps, but to run away with a bunch of other escaped slaves to make a living... To make a living and to be free. The next generation from them, not to be slaves but to be born free forever. Chayton was beginning to understand why his father trained him non stop at night, and why he craved so much to run away. Chayton fell in love with it, the fantasy was real. "Good. We'll see you then, Black-eyes. Take your time, too. Lay low a bit. The Loraks will probably be looking for you again pretty soon, so double back or something. Go through a different plantation. Definitely get rid of the horse." She eyed the beastie again before turning away and headed into the tall grass back to wherever they made camp... Probably deep in the swamp where death likes to roam. Chayton sat in the silence, the sounds of the Rujaro sounding more far away until silence washed over him like a black wave. Chayton was alone again. And soon, he would be completely alone as soon as he sells his horse. Chayton sat down again, his hand sore from clutching his eating knife so tightly, dropping it beside him. He rubbed his face and sighed, thoughts running through his head again. Mother, Father, Nani, and now Ross... Those people that were involved in his life great or small, were now dead. All he had left was his horse... And Shaba, but even she was gone. He wasn't sure if she got out or not, but everything inside him begged that she was alive.
Chayton took a few moments to rest, rubbing his aching muddy feet. He would have to start moving soon. Even if he felt a little attached to the horse, he would have to rid of it anyway. The Rujaro would probably kill it if he kept it, use it for meat or something. Either way, there was certainly a reason why his horse could not stay, and Chayton rather share his life with a society, never alone again, than with a horse that he can't even converse with. He would sell it tomorrow maybe, since he was scared to death of running into the Loraks in town. He wasn't sure if the beefy man that had killed Ross was still alive, since the other guard was terrified and pointed his arrow at him. But there was still one witness of his appearance, and that was the same man that had held the longbow. He must have took off once he noticed Chayton's disappearance. Good thing Chayton wore his mask. That's all they could go off of. The mask, and probably his giant size. However, when he was at the plantation, it appeared that he had short hair, from tying it in the back and tucking his long hair with the mask, now it was free and flowing. There was only one witness... Yes, he would never be identified except by the very same person. He would be safe... He hoped.
OOCIs the thread done? Do I submit it or are you going to grade it? Let me know if something needs to be changed. Thank you! 
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