[sub]"Wait! You have to come back!"[/sub]

Whoever was yelling [i]that[/i] to Cliff was out of their mind. He had no intention of waiting to be burned to a crisp by something that, in all his years of experiences in a myriad of sordid battlefields, [i]definitely[/i] looked hostile to him. He didn't even bother to acknowledge the fact that he could be wrong. He was too focused on moving forward, figuring out where he was, how to get back, just so many thoughts at once.

He didn't notice something move ever so slightly on the ground ahead of him as he ascended up a low hill. Something, or someone, very much alive. He'd taken one quick look back to see who was chasing him, and suddenly, he was falling forward down the knotted hill.

Rolling. Plenty of it. Clifford came to an abrupt stop after he hit a root jutting from the ground, bruising his shoulder, landing on the sun-lit grass at the base of the hill. Dirt and grass stains covered his white shirt and sweatpants, and not having any shoes wasn't helping his feet stay comfortable.

He lay there for nary a moment before his head rose up. His vision blurry, he looked around, trying to get a feel for his surroundings. All there was were more grass and trees, mountains in the distance. He didn't even pick a proper direction as he stood up and continued forward, clutching his shoulder with his good hand.

He was hoping no one was following him.

Or waiting for him up ahead.