17
Without a TraceRiff's leg was throbbing. Every step worsened the ache. Two Elks refused to slow their pace and only stared at Riff when he asked for rests. He itched in a dozen places. In hindsight, he should have used the mud the villagers offered, but he just couldn't see rubbing the foul smelling stuff all over his skin, they all looked ridiculous. He could do without the itching, though.
He found himself staring at his feet again and quickly looked up into the trees. It was too easy to fall into the habit of looking at the ground just in front of his feet and focusing on his aches and pains. But after the second attack from the great cats that infested this damnable wood, he was not taking any more chances.
The creatures were so bold and difficult to spot before it was too late.
