Neil was out of breath. He had ran more in the past few days than his entire life before then. The forest grew thinner, he knew soon he would have to deal with having no place to hide and catch his breath, but for now he pushed that to the back of his mind. Voices pushed through the trees to reach him. He ran so they wouldn't.

And stopped. He had reached the edge of the country! Someone must be smiling down on me he thought, as he scuffed his feet back to get a good run-up for the leap down. Then watched. A rock fell, dirt fell. He went back to the edge, watching them. He found a bigger rock just to be sure. He kicked it down the cliff side. Watched. Deflated.

It was frozen. The river, the last line of defence against his freedom was frozen. Neil sighed, began scaling the cliff. He thought to take his mind off the steadying numbness that threatened his fingers. The wind that flicked his cloak. I wonder why they call it scaling. Escalate, I understand, that's just scaling up. Guess that means 'e' is up in some old language. But does that make Scalate a word? Doesn't sound like one...

Neil couldn't help it. His eyes betrayed him, he couldn't not look down, he had to find his next foothold, next lip of icicle to stake his life on. The voices grew closer. When he found one and tapped it with his foot, forcing varying amounts of weight (his leg to his knee, his whole leg, and finally his body) on it, he rewarded himself with a glance up at the famed Antean sky.

Midnight shone. He was almost halfway down, and making good time. Well, any time is better than stopping, I suppose. He found other handholds and put down his left, right. Tugged them a little (hand, arm, body) rested on them. Then back to his feet. Snow rested atop many icicles like.. well, 'icing'. No that wasn't right, more like the head of a pint. No, he had it like a wedding veil. He shivered. The wind picked up, trees seemed to chatter along, goading and jeering.

The voices were close. He could hear clear words more than noises. "Kill" and "Hang" stood out, in particular.

He picked up speed, recklessly shifting without checking the weights the ice could withstand. Not a time for precaution. Quarter of the way to go. The voices stopped. He moved faster. He could hear them moving through the trees.

He looked behind him, trying to find the rock. It had been the size of his fist... There! It was still on the ice, it hadn't gone through. Maybe, just maybe.. A shot rang out. He jumped.

Neil landed. Grinned. Stopped grinning. Cracks appeared. He looked up. He saw them. He ran.

Thank God I have my breath back.