"Search over there! He couldn't have gone far!" the grating voice disturbed the relative quiet of the deep forest. Footsteps and hoofbeats swished through the fallen leaves.
Daemon held his throbbing breath as the sounds moved further away. His wounds were pounding two beats faster than his heart, but he didn't dare make a whimper.
"Blasted slave! See I don't whip him within an inch of his life before letting the master punish him!" the disgusting voice faded off into the distance.
Dragging his battered body upright, Daemon stood up from the hollow where he had been hiding and limped away, clutching his bleeding arm by his side. Although he had covered the wound with dirt to staunch the blood, he knew he was still leaving a slight trail which could give him away. However, there was nothing more he could do. He was reaching the limit of his endurance. As his head swam, he suddenly heard hoofbeats returning. Distracted, he stepped forward while looking in the direction of the sound. And felt nothing but air.
Daemon plummeted off the hidden ledge and into the water, just before the riders came close enough to hear the splash. Thus, after looking about, and overlooking the hidden pool, his pursuers missed the signs of his passage. Grumbling at their hardships, they galloped away to continue their search.
Is this how I die? flew through Daemon's head as he sank deeper into the cool darkness. At first, he felt nothing. Then sadness, and some bitterness. Of course, he was not aware he had fallen into the mythical Pond of Potential. And, as a mere slave, he did not realize what his true potential was.
Hatred. Beneath the sadness, beneath the bitterness, a small flame burned. In the water, it grew larger and hotter.
How dare they...how dare they...HOW DARE THEY!!
Deep below, a body contorted and reformed under the influence of the bewitched spring. And then, something dark, monstrous, and not quite human crawled from the water's edge.