He’d lost track of the days, and his vision had gotten pretty dark and it was hard to focus. Now it was night. There was a full moon out to light his way. How long had it been night? He didn’t remember the sun going away. But there was the moon, and there were plenty of stars out. And there were lights on the horizon that weren’t stars. Lights of the city. He headed that way.

He was walking on the road. During the day he left the road to shake off his pursuers, and at night he got back on. Now it was night, and he was back on the road, even though he couldn’t remember finding it. He didn’t like that. He was Thunk the Barbarian, and he didn’t run away from anyone. They ran away from him. A hero died fighting. His father had died fighting. Granted, he had been fighting in a tavern over an unpaid bar tab. It was still fighting, though. But Thunk remembered he had something important to tell the King. That was all that counted.

The city was ahead. There were taverns in the city. He told himself he’d have a drink when he got there. And clean up some of this blood. And then he could sleep. Yes, drink and sleep. Right after he saw the King.

The next time he stopped, he told himself he’d only rest long enough to get his strength back. But his strength wasn’t coming back anymore. It was ebbing away, and he was running out of time. He knew now that he couldn’t stop again, that the next time he stopped he would stop forever. He’d have to keep walking.

And then crawl.

He pushed himself away from the tree with both arms and took an unsteady step forward. And then another.