He was running hard and he was running fast. He couldn't risk looking back or slow down even a bit. The sword in his hand still covered in the blood of the arena master who had turned his back for just a moment. It was the chance he was looking for and he was going to take it. Though he admittingly enjoyed every second of it. He could still remember the stings of the master's whip across his back if he didn't put on a good enough performance. If anything a blade in his backside was too good for him.
But he had no time. He had been running for at least an hour now, but he knew the guards were right on his literal tail. They wouldn't hesitate to remove his head and display it like some sort of sick twisted trophy. Yet he was growing tired and he knew he'd have to stop soon. He soon came across a cliff face and ducked inside a cave. His heart was beating hard but he had to slow his breathing down or else they would hear him. He wouldn't go back, he refused to have himself be reduced to the level of shoe scum.