Poison of the road.

Leaving the boy, we both went are separate ways. I have no idea if I'll see that boy again, but something tells me he'll do great things. I stop that thought mid way. In all my imagination I couldn't see Lazaros dieing, however the boy gave me the slightest bit of hope, my revenge could exist. 

Returning to my job now, wouldn't be anything more than a death sentence. I need something new. America is a big place; perhaps they wouldn't be able to find me. This thought was tempting to believe, however working with them as long as I have, tell's me it's only a matter of time before they hunt me down. Going up state perhaps to some city where I can blend in. I've seen first hand that going into the wilderness alone, often leaves you cold and dead, be it disease, monsters, or just wildlife, it really doesn't matter what does you in. New Clarc, is supposedly, a strong city, even if it's relatively new. Perhaps they would hire me as a guard or something, or maybe for once I could get a normal job.

The thought of starting a new life brought a bright grin to my face.

 Walking upon the road is relatively safe, with monthly patrols of hunters and sometimes heroes keeping the monster levels down. Cars are used less and less nowadays, despite their efficiency, they're useless without gas. Planes are almost worthless due to high tier frying monsters. So most are left with the good old horse and carriage. Nothing wrong with it and it's better than walking. 

It's quiet and peaceful, at most you spot someone else once a day. There is a fear that bubbles up every now and again, I force it back down, just for it to come back up again. It's indescribably terrifying, goosebumps inducing, heart squeezing. It comes out of nowhere the feeling of eyes, slight breathing sounds coming from nowhere, shadows leap and duck from out of view. At times it's just a glimpse, but it grows more and more constant, as if it's getting comfortable, hanging there on the edge matching my pace. 

My first instinct was to let it go as just my imagination, but the further and further I go, I know it's anything but.

I can almost taste it, a bitter taste, a numb taste.

Hours go bye, the wildness goes but the taste remands, the shadow remands, the breathing remands. I couldn't think of anything else then I'm going mad. A monster would attack, an animal would give up, a, a human. I didn't want to think about it. 

A sign indicated I'm not far from the city. Yet it stays. It feels as if it's killing me with its gaze

alone. 

My legs feel like lead, each step is like going through quicksand. My face slinks and sloshes, I can feel each tooth, they click and chatter performing a symphony, my tongue mushes becoming a liquid, my skin feels fuzzy and staticy. Breathing is heavy; each push of my stomach/lungs is like the world wants to push it back down. My legs stumble, none of my steps are stable, looking more like falling than walking. Eyes grow heavy, using them burns. All I smell is wretched cinnamon, I don't want to breathe. 

I can see it, the massive walls of the city.

A, few, more, steps.