Betrayed by Blood
The forest felt like it was closing in around him. Xander wiped the sweat from his brow, his sharp eyes darting between the trees. He could hear the faint rustling of leaves, but whether it was the wind or someone following him, he didn't know. Paranoia had become his closest companion.
His stomach growled, and his legs felt like lead. He hadn't stopped moving since dawn, and the town ahead promised some semblance of rest. Or danger. Probably both.
He was exhausted. After his fist to Lydia, who he was now certain couldn't help him, he had been on the run. Stopping for minutes to rest his muscles. He hadn't had a good sleep in a week and he was only running on the thoughts of finding the bastard who sells the poison. There he could trace it back to the day of the blood hunt and figure out who bought the poison.