Checkpoint Regression

The day unfolds the same as before. He veers the wagon into the small town. The driver says the same dialog,

"I just need to grab something."

 I tell him I need to buy clothes and he agrees to meet back at the wagon. I make my way to the stores as I did previously. This time, I change into something comfortable. 

I also purchase a dagger, and keep it hidden. Walking back to the wagon, planning my escape when I pass by something. I stop and walk in reverse.

I look up at the sign creak, swinging, in the wind.

Medicine shop.

 I smile wickedly. 

I wear my hood, concealing my identity as I enter it. Pretending to be desperate, looking for medicine that could help soothe a severe cold. Begging with the clerk about medicine to help an ill person sleep.

 The clerk throws a pitiful expression at my frail frame. I pay for the necessary items and scurry to keep the facade of someone desperate.

Good. This should do.

I let out a mischievous chuckle,

"Hehehe"

I had slipped an extra item without the clerk noticing. 

I feel guilty, the clerk was kind. But the world isn't. I intend to survive. 

I promptly return to the wagon. Without anyone witnessing, I give the horse a small, calculated dosage of the extra item. It will make the horse act out of character– not sick– just a little nutty.

Being in that library finally found its use, I reminisce for a moment.

In the given opportunity, I shorten the harnesses slightly. 

The driver returns with the hunter, as I wait in the wagon. We replay the same dialog as the hunter sits across from me. I can see it now. In his eyes, I'm just a fawn. 

I can feel his intent– a wolf, ready to slaughter me.

I feel my sweat drip from my temples as I anxiously wait.

Come one! Come on!

The horse neighs and jumps, nearly kicking the driver in the face. It is beginning to cause a commotion. The three of us fall off the wagon. 

The horse kicks the driver in the stomach. He falls to the ground, yelling at the hunter for assistance. The harness loosens as chaos continues. The hunter clicks his tongue and approaches the horse. 

The horse separates itself from the harness and bolts. 

I did it! 

Its hooves pound against the ground as it disappears into the distance. The driver clutches his stomach in pain, groaning. His face twisted in anger and confusion. Oblivious. I out played him. The hunter turns to the driver's aid.

I act as if I care while masking my feelings of modest satisfaction. We are stranded without another horse. The hunter helps the driver hobble back to the inn for help.

As time passes, I offer to grab dinner for us. They agree to stay in the room. 

Looking at the hunter I feel foolish. A mediocre mercenary– if I can even call him that.

Does he think I'm fragile? Weak perhaps? Or better yet…a jester?

My eyes scan around before I slip the sedative into their meals.

Maybe I should've bought poison.

 I serve their meals and enjoy my own, pretending to be a saint.

"I'm tired. I'm off bed," I fake yawn. 

The hunter follows me out of the corridor as I return the bowls. I make certain that he notices me entering my room and turning off the light. I sit in the dark for some time. Listening. Waiting.

The drug gradually takes action as time passes.

I peer out the corridor after a while to see the 'hunter' slumped over, sleeping. I overhear the driver snoring loudly in his room. 

Now's the time!

I hurriedly remove myself, collect my dagger, and slip out the front door, thankfully unnoticed.

Oh! My God! I'm out, I giggle raising my hands in the air.

My plan fell apart when it became apparent I didn't have transportation.

"Shit…"

I glance around, but there are no other horses or wagons I can use. I decide to run against the clock. I sprint down the empty street, my heart pounding in my chest, this time not from fear. A different type of feeling. A feeling of relief. 

I slow down,

Shitty stamina!

I curse my lack of foresight. I take the chance to dart through alleyways and side streets, desperately trying to put as much distance between myself and my killers as possible. 

With the moon still high in the sky, I hope to be out of town soon. My sides are cramping, my legs aching, and my lungs are about to collapse. I come to a slow stop, my hands on my knees, gasping for air. I rest my palm on my chest—inhale and exhale steadily breathing.

I spot some guards as I get closer to the town gate. I press myself against a wall, wondering how I am going to divert them.

"Aw man!" I whisper, frustrated.

Think. Think.

A light bulb moment.

I crawl close to the open gate as close as I can without drawing attention to myself. In hiding, I pick some pebbles from the ground. 

I hurl one into the bush beyond the gate. The guards are on alert. 

I toss another one. 

They step forward. 

I take my chance and gradually creep towards the entryway. 

Slight hesitation in their steps, they investigate.

I quickly tip toe behind a bush near the exit.

I have to make this count, I pray.

I kiss the last pebble in my hand and throw it deep into the town.

 A sharp thud, hitting a random object. 

They take the bait, dashing into town.

I vanish.

I sprint towards the nearest forest. With each step, I pray my escape goes unnoticed.

 By late night I disappear into the dense foliage. In each breath, a silent prayer. For the first time, in all the lives I lived, I feel content.