The forest was pitch black at night, making it hard even to see one's fingers. Wolves howled in the distance. Red had been walking for almost an hour, but the edge of the forest was nowhere in sight.
"Fucking hell. I can't see a thing here," Red mumbled as he walked through the shadows of the trees looming overhead. "I need to find a Nexarian camp before one of the tribes finds me..."
Having taken his revenge, Red had no other reason to stay in the land of barbarians. He had heard about the vicious punishments the tribals gave to those who ventured into their lands, and Red had no interest in suffering at the hands of vicious morons.
That's why he was looking for a Nexarian outpost. In his current state, stripped and covered in grime, pretending to be one of the tribes' runaway slaves was a simple way to seek help from them and find his way back to Nexaria.
