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Stryke had waited after he and Byakko parted company in order to try and forge ahead. He hadn't heard back from her, making his mind race with concern. Deciding he'd waited long enough as the minutes seemed to claw on agonizingly he pressed forward through a narrow passage way. Shadows of all kinds moved all around him, occasionally what looked like flickering lights from the brightly hued forest and it's vegetation. As he took a step, he thought he heard another crackle noise. His pump biscuit began to beat erratically, and had no desire to call out as he was uncertain if it was friend or foe.

Purposely grabbing a rock he chucked it into the brush to make a great deal of noise before bolting from the source of the noise to try and find a better hiding spot. He'd run many times in his life, but never before had the stakes been this high. Not even the explosions of OHC in the final moments. If he was caught, he would potentially be executed. Still he wanted to try and find Byakko to help her, fearing the worse for the brightly hued female.

His boots sloshed in the bog as he raced along, ignoring the various dull aches all across his body. Stryke came to a halt, hand resting on a tree as he kept to the shadows for what good it would do him. Crouching down low to the ground he listened, trying to get a feeling for if it had been a figment of his thinkpan, or if there truly was something to be feared. Eyes seemed to be watching him from all around raising the hair on the back of his neck, his imagination slowly beginning to run wild.

Real and primal fear raced through his veins when he heard those footsteps separate from his own. He’d raced along carrying the heavy kanabō, it had made his movements slower. Stryke tried to shrug off everything that seemed intent on frightening him as nothing. It was just a creature he’d startled in the marsh lands. Still the nagging sense he was missing something his eyes could not detect persisted. Even the tearing and ripping sensation of the narrow passage way he’d torn through didn’t faze him. He had to keep moving…his feet carried him even when he wanted nothing more than to collapse in the mud. Ever since last night when he’d tripped over something unexpectedly and tumbled down into the mud he’d been convinced something was amiss.

Stryke was half certain he’d lost whatever it was however, the narrow passageway was almost impossible to pass through unless you were alone.

Still the problem persisted on as day turned to night even when he’d cleared the dangerous grabbing vegetation. A fresh cut had blossomed on his grey flesh across his right cheek, leaving droplets of golden blood dotting the ground occasionally. Stryke was wild eyed and exhausted, too tired to bother with the cut by the time he’d bolted off and found a place within the trees shadows to stop. Even long into the next day he would hear things, all without seeing a source. It was nerve wracking and made it easy to lose track of where he was going. As much as he’d wanted to believe he was imagining everything the illusion was shattered in a moment of clarity.

Thunk. Thunk. A dull hollow sound rang through this section of the swamp before fading into nothing. His face drained of all color as he lifted his head up looking around desperately to place the sound.

The wraiths of some of his favorite wiggler story books took on new life with this tangible source. He couldn’t tell where it had come from; it was too close for comfort. He’d never been hunted before, having not dared wander near the Four Fronds and especially this deep into this hellish no trolls land. It was uncharted territory, on all accounts for the yellowblood. “s..sshit!” He pushed himself up off the ground having been heavily leaning on a leg he’d drawn to his chest. “who’s there!” He hissed baring his fangs as he leaned on the weight of the rebel leader’s weapon before getting up already on the move again.

He had to run to try and escape before his time and luck ran out for good. The weight of the ribbon Vremea had tied around his wrist during their earlier conversation at the caverns within Busthind felt suddenly very heavy on him. All the promise he’d made to the other yellowblood, to Byakko, and Keionx turned in his thinkpan. Even the one he’d made to Kursha that had been drug through the very mud he had been coated in and ran through. Stryke now walked the line of no return.

The yellowblood’s lusus had no teachings that related to this situation he could grasp onto. The large lizard was a predator, and had taught him respect and beliefs in absolutions. Skinkdad hadn’t taught him how to handle things that were unseen and could potentially take you down.

It was strange that that he had become the prey, instead of the predator his lusus had tried to raise.

Stryke had thought for just a brief moment he was perhaps safe, he had started to cover a bit of ground. As he moved past a tree a shape came into view, it was a cloak over a silhouette that was otherwise invisible. A yell of surprise tore from his lungs resulting in a loud sound. The wraith had found him. Like a phantom it had launched its self upon him to bring down its destruction. "NO!" he shouted in fear

The yellowblood's eyes went wide with surprise as he heard the sound of what was a weapon being loaded. Before he could pivot to turn around he felt pain rip into his right leg. For a moment all he could do was staring in disbelief as white hot pain brought translucent yellow tears pricking at his eyes. The impact sent him crashing down to the swamp below as he screamed in pain grabbing for his injured leg.

There would be no more running, he'd be lucky to limp along.

Sucking in a sharp breath he swore as his eyes went wide, glassy from pain as he bared his fangs at the apparition general direction. "s...sshow yourself...!" He panted, clenching his teeth tightly he hissed in anger refusing to cry before the enemy, already reaching for his daggers he kept in holsters under his jacket. Blood was seeping out of a few of the impact wounds had broken skin. Most had just left nasty dark welts that left ugly dark yellow bruises behind. These weren't actual bullets?! His eyes studied one of the riot bullets that had hit the ground. Stryke looked horrified. Had their orders changed? He had expected to die when he heard the gun go off.

Trying to push himself up to stand he growled in discomfort but with sheer determination and will he forced himself up onto his uninjured knee. He would not lie on the ground and cry for help. His curled lip revealed a row of fangs that could be seen from under the hood he still wore. Anger blazed in the yellowbloods features. The weapon he'd been carrying for the pinkblood lay discarded off to the side. It had landed with a heavy splat of mud, only to lay motionless.

Stryke was confused when Sarcel spoke, her voice gave him mixed signals all across the board. If she was trying to go for hardened determination it certainly wasn't that. Her voice was too soft, but the weapon she had trained on him made her intentions clear. The stammer in her voice threw him off, the confusion in his angry glare left the yellowblood's mood to sour even further.

"i don't know you just ssshot me i haven't tried putting any weight on it!" He snapped at her, glaring pointedly at the troll whom had materialized seemingly from nothing. He'd heard of trolls with powers, it wasn't implausible. Of course the Queen would have armed forces of all power types that made sense.

Gritting his teeth he stood up...hesitantly putting weight on both legs and cringing visibly finding it hard to do so. Even with a gun pressed to his chest he found the strength of will to be testy with her. Yet that finger on the trigger tempered his behavior for the moment remarkably. "i'll try..." His eyes looked downwards, slowly lowering his hands from his jacket not revealing he was armed...letting her think the giant thing on the ground had been his arms of choice.