Fifteen minutes. He had been gone for fifteen minutes and had somehow managed to lose a more than full sized person because his hearing was apparently on par with a few of the elderly patients he had treated. He had felt the cool breeze before he had seen the shards littering the table and floor by the window, quickly parking the small cart he was wheeling by the wall and peering through the empty frame. The light barely illuminated the surrounding darkness, tapering only a few feet ahead. He heard it as he pulled back. The barking of the dogs and remembered his creation’s interest in them as they walked through the halls.
For the first time in a long while, Illian ran. Thoughts of his creation chasing after dogs to the properties edge and potentially getting lost and hurt. Of them somehow crossing property lines into his neighbor’s land and running into guard dogs or worse. He runs, cane held tight and tucked beneath his arm, lantern from the room in the other as he races towards the entrance and out the door. It worried him that the barking had ceased by the time he stepped out, and that not even faint growling or whimpers could be heard no matter how hard he strained his ears.
He calls out into the dark, holding the lantern out and looking around as he makes his way to the otherside of the broken window to trace the direction his creation could have possibly taken. They needed to decide on a name when this was resolved. He had intended on doing that after he had settled them in, but he was beginning to think this and a few other things should have been tackled in the first few moments of waking.
“Hello? Please tell me you are still near! Hello!”
The quiet persisted, and he wonders if the lack of insects or the muted rustling of grass was the result of a worried imagination or reality.
He traces the side of the manor, forcing himself to slow down after feeling the bits of glass and small rocks beneath his shoes. It wouldn’t do anyone good to injure himself, especially on the chance that he had become worked up over nothing. That his creation might have just chased after the dogs away or the dogs had outrun them and they were heading back. Or that they had even decided on a different course of action that he had thought and were just wandering about after taking the quickest route out of the room.
Lowering his lantern showed the shards of glass reflecting in the light, scattering outwards and pressed into the grass by heavy footsteps. Lifting the lantern showed a light trail or crushed grass and indents in the dirt leading to the back of the property. He follows it, doing his best to be mindful of the weeds catching his shoes as he uses the flattened grass as a path to avoid the worst of it and to hopefully find his creation near or at its end.
He almost sighs with relief as he catches a large silhouette walking towards the house. He calls out again, walking towards them. He stops when the light catches something under his creation’s arms.
For the first time in a long while, Illian ran. Thoughts of his creation chasing after dogs to the properties edge and potentially getting lost and hurt. Of them somehow crossing property lines into his neighbor’s land and running into guard dogs or worse. He runs, cane held tight and tucked beneath his arm, lantern from the room in the other as he races towards the entrance and out the door. It worried him that the barking had ceased by the time he stepped out, and that not even faint growling or whimpers could be heard no matter how hard he strained his ears.
He calls out into the dark, holding the lantern out and looking around as he makes his way to the otherside of the broken window to trace the direction his creation could have possibly taken. They needed to decide on a name when this was resolved. He had intended on doing that after he had settled them in, but he was beginning to think this and a few other things should have been tackled in the first few moments of waking.
“Hello? Please tell me you are still near! Hello!”
The quiet persisted, and he wonders if the lack of insects or the muted rustling of grass was the result of a worried imagination or reality.
He traces the side of the manor, forcing himself to slow down after feeling the bits of glass and small rocks beneath his shoes. It wouldn’t do anyone good to injure himself, especially on the chance that he had become worked up over nothing. That his creation might have just chased after the dogs away or the dogs had outrun them and they were heading back. Or that they had even decided on a different course of action that he had thought and were just wandering about after taking the quickest route out of the room.
Lowering his lantern showed the shards of glass reflecting in the light, scattering outwards and pressed into the grass by heavy footsteps. Lifting the lantern showed a light trail or crushed grass and indents in the dirt leading to the back of the property. He follows it, doing his best to be mindful of the weeds catching his shoes as he uses the flattened grass as a path to avoid the worst of it and to hopefully find his creation near or at its end.
He almost sighs with relief as he catches a large silhouette walking towards the house. He calls out again, walking towards them. He stops when the light catches something under his creation’s arms.