Treasure Map

Running.

Running.

Quickly you glance behind you, trying to catch sight of your pursuers. Through the trees and brush you can't make them out, but you can still hear their voices. You look back in front of you, just soon enough to dodge out of the way of a low-hanging branch. Up ahead light shines through. Soon you'll be out of the woods, but where are you going to go when the trees no longer give cover.

A loud bell rings as you burst through into the light, a small fishing town seated down the cliff below you. The voices behind you are getting closer. There's only enough time for a quick glance to make sure that sliding down won't be certain **** and down you go.

The rough rocks sting your flesh as you slide down the dirt cliff. The shirt and trousers you had stolen from off the laundry line now completely past any hope of repair. At least passing yourself off as a poor street urchin running through the streets will be all the easier.

As you reach the bottom of the dirt slide, you quickly pat your hands together to rid them of dust, but instead wince at the pain. You glance at your hands and are shocked to see just how much the rocks tore into them. You wipe your hands on your trousers, resulting in nothing more than kicking up a little more dust and getting a little more blood on your hands. Apparently, you skinned one of your knees, as the pain sets in and you notice the stain of blood on the ripped trouser knee.

Looking back up the cliff, your pursuers are just starting to break out of the forest, so you rush into the town, hoping to lose them in the streets. You duck behind some buildings and almost run into a woman carrying a basket of vegetables. "Watch where yer runnin', boy," she scolds you. You blink, for a second, bow your head and run off. Damn it. There is no way you're going to find a place to hide with all the people about. There's no way you can turn back now, however. The possibility you're going to run into them again is just too great.

Almost out of breath, you make it all the way to the docks, where a lone merchant ship sits with barrels and crates being loaded on. There's no where left to go, on one side, certain capture, on the other, the sea.