Your heart feels like it's going to burst from running. Eyes watering from not blinking, they are wide and they burn as you try desparately to see in the dark outside the harbor city's walls. 'The Sea...the Sea...' you repeat desparately in your mind, for you dare not speak it aloud; he might hear you.
Cresting a hill, you see it, the sparkling waters of the Sea, perhaps but a league ahead! Leaning on the city wall to take some ragged breaths, you start to calm, filling your lungs with the salty air. You're saved! Now he won't be able to find you.... But ... what they said in the taverns ... No one is safe from the Brother. Not even you. The Sea....the Sea is the exception. Maybe if you can just get there in time...
'It's not nice to steal.'
The voice was as dry and sandy as the shore, causing you to jump and cry aloud as if the words had scorched you. 'One might get angry, and someone might get hurt.'
Your legs become an anchor, and your body cold as the grave. Death himself, you now know, is standing right behind you. There was no reasoning with the inevitable.
With the last of whatever courage you can muster, you look up and into the dark hood of the Brother. That face was uglier than death itself, and now you wish you hadn't stolen from his mail box. In fact, you wish you hadn't stolen a thing in your life, most of all stealing a look at the figure before you.
It was your last.