Edited 16/4/23 :-)
He'd been running for what felt like months. It must at least have been a week or two since the three Hunters had got back on his trail.
He was running out of food, energy, resources and, more importantly, options.
Although nameless as a bandit, the public referred to him as 'Dream'. The nickname grew to be pretty endearing so it was his identity now. His old name was almost foreign to him, an echo of a past life.
Dream sat on the rooftop of a house in one of the many rural villages in which timid peasants roamed around, paying him little to no attention.
He was eating the last of his berries, eyes squinted on the horizon as the sun began to sink.
His hands were bruised and scratched, nails gritty and black, from his latest near-escape from the three Hunters, who were after him for the very generous bounty on his head.
He supposed he couldn't blame them, but it was ridiculous that the king requested his capture when he hadn't done anything other than aid the poor. (Granted, he achieved this by stealing from the King, and he also may have accidentally killed some of the King's men along the way, though nothing personal).
Still, he saw no real issue with it.
In fact, over the years, he'd become a martyr (a Robin Hood figure of sorts to the locals), who chased an ideology that many agreed with: that the corrupt King should be overthrown.
Hence the nickname 'Dream' — as his dream for freedom was not unlike many trapped within the small Kingdom of Wovoreld.
The three 'Hunters' were equally infamous for their brutality and precision as an elite force of knights at the king's disposal.
Dream, however, thought they were a bunch of self-important goons. (Plus they never came anywhere near to catching him).
Absently, he rolled his shoulder, wincing slightly at the dull ache. He'd taken a pretty bad fall in his last escapade and was likely not ready to do any more running for a while. Probably a good time to go incognito, for his golden curls and bright green eyes were a bit of a giveaway, particularly in daylight.
Dream fastened his porcelain white mask over his face, pulled his dark green hood up, and gently crouched down from the roof of one abandoned house, cursing slightly as he felt the jolt through his legs as he hit the floor.
Sticking to the shadows, he shuffled to the door of the house he'd scouted an hour ago, methodologically fiddling with the lock, attempting to pick it. He figured no one would care if it was abandoned either way, and the darkness of night would conceal any suspicion about him. And it was the perfect spot to spend the night—
"Hey! What are you doing?"
Dream froze at the sudden authoritarian voice.
Shit.
Could the hunters have already found him? How did they do it so soon?
Shit. Shit.
He glanced up slowly, squinting through the expertly-cut eye slits on his mask.
YOU ARE READING
MANHUNT {dreamnotfound}
Fanfiction((COMPLETED + EDITED!)) Dream is the Kingdom's most wanted thief. George is a Hunter sent to kill him, King's orders. When George makes the rash decision to follow him into a ravine, the two men are stuck together, forced to survive the strange an...
