My first page in some time

The mist was getting heavier with the coming dusk. Kael traded his loping run for a slower pace. He had been on the run for almost two hours, fearing that the Jitanos would find his trail and quickly overtake him. Kael was a strong cross country runner, but he had never had such a cause to drive him on before. Adrenaline had carried him to this point, but fatigue was finally taking hold, forcing him to halt to try to catch his breath. He moved to wipe the sweat off his forehead, but found only the dried salt of his physical exertion. Without the exercise to occupy it, Kael's mind flooded with the events of recent hours and threatened to bring tears to his eyes.

"My father is dead." These were the words told in a harsh whisper to one's self. The image played in continous cycle in the mind's eye; the quick thrust of a blade and J'mish's mortal body slumping to its knees before its complete collapse in the mud. The tortured, choked scream of a youth hiding in the cornrows and then the wash of crimson. Kael remembered waking, as if from a dream, with fresh blood staining his form and the metallic taste of it on his lips, clutching his father to his breast and rocking to and fro, sobbing as his tears ran rivulets through the red gore on his face. The memory tore at him and hit with full force for the first time, racking his tired body with emotion.

- I failed him. I couldn't save him; I didn't even try.
- There was nothing I could do; he wanted me out of harm's way. What good would I have done him if I got myself killed? It happened through no fault of mine.
- Stop making excuses for yourself. I let my father die; a better son would have done something to prevent it. I am a failure to him.

Having already emptied his breakfast earlier, Kael bent over double and dry-heaved into the grass. As he stood tall, he sucked in a deep breath and ordered his frenzied thoughts. The Jitanos would be after him; that much he knew. Kael had been responsible for the carnage back at the farm, though he knew not how. The important thing was that the corpses he left surely had comrades close who would be pursuing him into the swamps. Kael had every intention of never meeting them. The best move was to make for the Haowtep and Neehemsehto. Their friendship and protection would be invaluable now. From what he could tell, Kael was still a few miles out from the outskirts of the goblin encampment. Feeling somewhat rested, he began walking in the correct direction.

Suddenly, a flock of red-winged blackbirds exploded from the marshy underbrush behind Kael. Out of habit, he instantly dropped to a prone position on the ground and scanned the stretch of land he had just come from. Though his eyes marked nothing out of the ordinary, a sixth sense alerted him that he was being followed. With a soft and practiced motion, Kael unslung his rifle from his shoulder and began to load shot and powder.