It had been two weeks since he had made it out of the dungeon, and since then, Juan had been traversing through one of the most dangerous territories in Eseron, the northern alps. If it wasn't for Red, the little squirrel with the knack for sniffing out not only directions but weak prey such as mountain rabbits, pheasants, and partridges, Juan knew for certain he would have been dead. Of course, the fact that he was a Templeton with blood blessed by the Goddess Isaris and that he was a Norsewood warrior with great fortitude and life skills played an important role in his survival, too. Any normal man, especially those from down south, would have succumbed to the elements and the dangerous terrain already, their body one of the many nourishing the soil on this land that grew harsher every year.

During those two weeks, Juan had been constantly on the move, taking a short rest here and there in the depth of caves or behind jagged boulders, keeping himself as safe and as warm as possible from the harsh elements. The night had always been the worst, for the freezing temperature could really kill, but as a warrior, he knew how to make fire with very little resources, using that to keep himself warm as well as cook what he had hunted.

Despite his situation seeming and feeling utterly hopeless, Juan refused to give in to negative thoughts. His men and the people back at the dungeon had put their faith in him, depended on him to bring back aid, and he'd do whatever it took to accomplish that, even risk his own life if need be.

Indeed, he, too, had been putting his conviction on Red to guide him back to Norsewood, and the little guy had done an admirable job by bringing him all the way here to the border of his homeland. Now, he was putting that trust on the little furry once again as he raced across the woods, flitting between pine trees here and there. He could barely see, since it was dark, and Red's nose was an assurance that'd make sure they'd survive this hunt.

"Which way!" he shouted, puffing out misty haze into the air.

Red, snug and secure in Juan's wooly sweater with his head popped out, sniffed the air for a moment and then pointed straight.

"Are you sure?" he asked. But of course, Red's sense of direction was never wrong, and Juan kept sprinting.

Behind him, he could hear the thumping of heavy feet on the ground, and Juan knew the night trolls were close. They'd continue to chase him down until the sun rose, until the light of the day was too much for their night eyes. He knew they were desperate for prey, and he was that prey, for food in winter was scarce even for them.

Since the border was deserted after the raid and Norsewood citizens had left to find refuge at the manor or elsewhere, these bastards had become convinced that there were no soldiers to protect the land and had proclaimed themselves kings and made this place their den. Sneaking past the area without them sniffing him out was simply impossible, hence here he was, being hunted by a horde that'd surely gut him alive if he ever got caught.

Juan snorted. Caught. Ha! He would not allow that to happen, especially not when he had been through hell and now that he was so damn close to accomplishing his goal at that.

He turned left and saw the edge of the woods. He noted that the sky was getting lighter, too, indicating dawn was near, and he felt a sense of relief.

"Just a little longer," he said to himself.

Red sniffed the air again and tilted his head to one side as he blinked a few times, as if confused. Then he got rather excited and pulled at Juan's shirt to get the man's attention.

"What? You smell something?"

Red pointed to the right as he tugged insistently, squeaking persistently, urgently.

Juan said, "All right. All right. You're the guide." He switched directions and turned right. He sprinted like he had never done before as the horde closed the distance between them. Suddenly, he widened his eyes and swore under his breath as he slowed down. He came to a stop just as he reached the edge of what looked like a steep slope. He said, "Down there?"

Red nodded furiously as he pointed down, squeaking.

Juan took a deep breath and said, "All right." Then he descended, sliding across the snowbound incline as the night troll came skimming down after him. He glanced over his shoulder and said, "They're not going to give up, are they?"

Red pulled at his shirt, squeaking noisily as if to tell him to make haste. Juan obliged, skidding and running, and then toppling and coming to land on the ground with a huff. He swore under his breath as he attempted to get up.

Red squeaked urgently again as he made a racket against Juan's chest, and Juan knew he had to get moving. But he was too late as a night troll came down on him from behind, sending a wooden club on his back, smacking him and causing him to tumble forward where he landed on the snowy ground with a huff again.

Red squeaked as his body shivered in trepidation, his eyes round and large as more night trolls surrounded them and the one before them raised the club high. Juan managed to turn, and when he saw the club descending toward him, he thought, dear deity, but this was it, wasn't it? The end of him, and he was so damn close, too.

"Damnation!" he swore under his breath, and with all his strength, he made himself move, even just an inch.

He managed to roll over, the club missing him by an inch. The club rose again as the troll growled loud, as if in frustration, the noise echoing across the area.

Despite his legs being severely sprained from the fall, Juan knew he had to get up and run. And up he got, onto his feet and then limped backward as the trolls closed in around him, their clubs swinging and their growls loud. He found himself cornered, his back to a tree, and he said under his breath, "We're done for, aren't we?"

Red burrowed deep into Juan's sweater, and Juan didn't blame him. He would burrow deep into a sweater, too, if he was that small and being surrounded by night trolls intending to murder him. They were severely outnumbered, and as injured and exhausted as he was, any chance of escape was next to none.

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath to calm his mind. Ah, damn, if only he was stronger. If only he had the ability to use fire magic like Theo and Connor, then these trolls wouldn't stand a chance, for they were weak against the flaming element. And that damn sunrise, where in heaven was it? It should have made its appearance by now.

He glanced to the distance and then swallowed hard, his heart sinking. Of course, there was no sun, for a storm was brewing, and he knew it wouldn't be long before this place was blasted with snow. Then again, a snowstorm also meant a chance of escape, but that was only possible if he could—

An enormous fireball flew in front of him and hit the troll before his very eyes, causing it to burst into flames. Juan widened his eyes in shocked surprise, stunned, as the troll ran around like a headless chicken, growling in pain, and then plopped to the ground, dead. More fireballs came, bright and hot, and Juan watched each one hit smack-dab on the trolls, engulfing them in flames.

Red popped his head out from the sweater and looked around in curiosity as he sniffed the air. A horse galloped toward them, and Juan saw a young man with a magic circle glowing and spitting out fireballs, which hit the trolls as the monsters came charging toward them. Juan was... dumbfounded.

The beautiful steed and young man came to a stop in front of him and a husky voice said urgently, along with a hand reaching out, "Get on!"

Juan wasted no time and grabbed on to the offered aid. Within moments, he was behind his savior on the horse, one arm wrapped tightly around a firm waist.

Another fireball blasted in the direction of the trolls, which caused quite a chaos. Taking the opportunity, the young man—Liam—turned the steed around and nudged at it to start galloping.

Once they were out of the woods and heading toward the other side, Juan glanced over his shoulder and saw trolls that were engulfed in flames were still running around while some fell to the ground and rolled on the snow to snuff out the fire. Those that had escaped the wrath of the fireballs had retreated into the depth of the woods, and Juan sighed in relief. Finally, after a full night of running for his life, he could breathe easy, and all thanks to this stranger in front of him.

They were nearing the base of a cliff on the other side when the snowstorm hit, and Juan thought, so much for taking it easy. At this point, he was very certain he was cursed with bad luck. It had been one thing after another, for sure.

He shouted, "We need to find shelter."

Liam nodded and said, "You know a good place?"

Red popped out of Juan's sweater and climbed onto Liam's back as he sniffed the air. Then perching on Liam's shoulder, he pointed to the right, which caught Liam's attention.

"Huh?" Liam said, confused.

"Right. Turn right," Juan said. "Red knows the way."

"The squirrel knows the way?" Liam asked.

"Damn right he does," Juan said. "He's my guide and a damn excellent one."

Liam tugged at the rein, and the steed turned right as the snowstorm raged, with wind howling and gusting and the snow spitting on them mercilessly. When they saw a hollowed overhang cave at the base of the cliff, Juan said, "There. Go there. It'll shelter us from the snowstorm."

Liam nodded and nudged the horse to go faster, and by the time they arrived at the site, they were soaking wet from head to toe.

Shivering, Juan hastily got down from the steed and limped deeper into the cave, away from the harsh elements and then collapsed on the ground, resting against the cold stone behind him. He then took off his boot and sock and inspected the injury on his ankle, noting the bruise, cut, and blood, and he sighed, knowing this would take weeks to heal, if not more, and he certainly did not have weeks, let alone days, to get better. Every minute counted in getting aid to the captives, and he couldn't afford to waste time.

After putting back on his very worn and torn sock and boot, he lifted his gaze to see his savior taking off a leather satchel, the type he had never seen before, from around his chest and then opened it. He could only stare when Liam took out something that looked like a dark box. He put it on the ground, pressed on it, and then walked back. Within seconds, that black box expanded, and Juan's mouth dropped open as the box turned into what looked like a tent, unlike anything he had ever seen before.

Liam pulled something up, and just like that, there was a door. After placing a blanket over the stallion and giving it a carrot, his savior came over to him. "Let's get you inside and warm you up."

Juan nodded. Swinging his arm over a pair of slender, firm shoulders, Juan limped as Liam aided him toward the tent.