Sarum, Desmond, 10416 P.C.

Annabella left Tamara's house just over an hour later. Tamara, who was worried that her house may still have been watched, left for the market through the front door while Annabella escaped through the back. Carrying her newly supplied backpack, Annabella crept through Tamara's backyard and jumped the fence into the alleyway. She kept to the shadows, doing her best to remain unnoticed as she followed the quickest route out of the village. It, however, involved crossing one of the main roads, which at that time of day was rather busy. Pulling the hood of her coat over her head and taking a deep breath, she stepped out into the open. Walking as casually as she could, she started across the street, passing strangers and faces she vaguely recognized; she kept her head down, hoping no one would notice her presence.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she stepped into an alleyway. Hurrying through it, her heart began to race as she caught sight of the forest beyond. Her sanctuary.

"Hey, you! Stop!"

Annabella's heart lurched at the voice, and she broke into a run.

"Stop or I'll shoot!"

This time she heeded the voice, the warning making her blood run cold. She peeked around her hood to see a young patrolman at the end of the alleyway where she had just been. He had a crossbow aimed at her.

"Hands where I can see them," the patrolman ordered, and she obeyed, slowly lifting her hands to shoulder height. She kept quiet, waiting for him to advance. As long as he was the only one, she could easily take him on.

To her dismay, he didn't move. "Dimon! I think I got her!" he called behind him.

Annabella didn't waste a second. She broke into a run again, desperate to reach the forest before he shot. Her luck had run out, it seemed, because the next thing she knew she was sprawled on the ground, a ragged cry escaping her lips as intense pain seared her thigh. She rolled over, gasping, relieved to find that no arrow protruded from her leg. Her relief was short-lived, however. Blood was soaking her pant leg. The arrow had grazed her, but the wound was deep and created fiery pain every time she moved. Gritting her teeth through it, Annabella shoved herself to her feet, drawing her sword as soldier hurried down the alleyway toward her.

Someone yelled and the patrolman was intercepted by a man leaping down from the roof above. Taken by surprise, the patrolman had no time to defend himself and was soon dead, the man's dagger in his neck.

The man spun around to Annabella, who had watched the scene before her in stupefied shock. "Run." When she didn't move, he yelled it. "Run!"

Jolted from her stupor, Annabella obeyed. Turning around, she ran for the forest, gasping as the pain in her leg fought to cripple her. Telling herself she had endured worse, she pushed harder, sprinting through the trees as fast as she could on her injured leg. Behind her, she heard yelling, but she couldn't think of that. The man had given her a chance, and she took it. She hadn't even known him, but he had known her — or at least, who she was. He had sacrificed himself for her, and she would never even know his name.

Annabella ran for as long as she could, panting and stumbling through the trees as the yelling behind her grew distant. Tripping, she fell hard on her injured leg, crying out as the pain immobilized her. Breathing heavily through gritted teeth, she fought the pain in order to rip her pants further, trying to see the extent of her wound. It was deep and bleeding profusely, and she ripped her pants at the knee, using the ruined fabric to bind the wound. She didn't have time to tend to the wound right now; she had to get away from Sarum, as far as and as fast as she could. They'd start looking for her. Her fingers trembled as she knotted the fabric, hoping it was enough pressure to stop the bleeding. Climbing back to her feet, she continued on through the pain.

She travelled for several hours. The terrain changed as she went; the deciduous oaks and maples were traded for the thick trunks of jungle trees as the ground became softer and soggier. Lundama Jungle was an unforgiving part of Desmond, thick with dangerous creatures and terrain. Annabella was used to the difficult travelling, but her wounded leg slowed her down considerably and made it all the tougher. She stopped for a rest when the sun was high in the sky. Finding a shaded spot beneath a huge jungle tree, she tended to her wound with a small medical kit Tamara had tucked into the backpack. She blessed Tamara for thinking of a needle and thread for stitching because her wound needed it. She cleaned it the best that she could and stitched it, hoping beyond hope that infection wouldn't set in. After wrapping it securely in gauze, Annabella traded her ruined pants for a cleaner, extra pair that she made sure she always had. She'd need to find another extra pair.

As she was zipping up her bag, she caught sight of something moving in the underbrush several yards away. Carefully rising to her feet, she drew her sword. The rustling stopped.

Putting on her pack, she continued on her journey, keeping her sword in hand. As the hours dragged on, she kept up her continuous march southward. She used her sword as a machete, hacking away any vines that barred her path, keeping her fingers crossed that she wouldn't encounter any Stranglers that might have been waiting around to attack. She was a survivor, yes — but no one had encountered a Strangler and lived to tell the tale.

When she reached the Lundama Channel, she stopped for a rest. The channel had used to be wider, longer, weaving through the entire jungle and connecting sea to sea. However, it had begun to dry up over the years; Annabella had never seen it lower. She wasn't complaining. It looked as though she could wade through to the other side without a problem.

After a short rest, Annabella said a little prayer and stepped into the water. It was icy although the air was humid, and she gritted her teeth as she waded in. She had to hurry — there were unfriendly creatures in the water that would love to take another chunk out of her leg if they could. The ground at the bottom of the channel was slippery stones and rock that her boots fought to gain a grip on, and she nearly slipped several times. The current, though weak, threatened to topple her. Her legs were numb from the cold by the time she reached the opposite shore, but she was able to breathe easier once she was out of the water. Shivering, she marched on, hoping the movement would keep her warm. As she travelled, she couldn't shake the eerie, uncomfortable feeling that she was being watched.