David knew the only chance he had was to try and run past that Loki. Clutching his knife tightly in his unchanged hand, he peeked out carefully to survey the area. No sign of the Loki. This was his chance.
Diving out from his cover, the hunter rushed through the foliage. Not even bothering to try hiding from his opponent, he devoted all his energies solely to running. The Loki could have spotted him for all he knew, but he didn't care. He was focused only on his escape. Bounding over roots and ducking under low branches, he navigated the forest at an almost inhuman pace, his adrenaline allowing him to do the otherwise impossible and rush through this forest with unbelievable ease. It almost seemed like it was too easy, the Loki having apparently abandoned hunting him, but he still just ran towards freedom, towards escape. Just a little further...
SPLASH! "SON OF A BITCH!" It took David only a second to realize what he'd done. He was so focused on getting away that he hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings, and he'd managed to miss the pool of quicksand that now enveloped his boots. No, not quicksand... paint! The same green paint that had changed his hand now slowly rose as he sunk into it at a painfully slow rate, passing by his ankles... his shins... "Aw crap."
The sinking was ridiculously slow, and David knew that his pants and boots protected his legs and feet well enough to prevent the paint from actually making contact with his skin, but it didn't matter. He was a sitting duck in this puddle, and it was only a matter of time before he'd sunk deep enough for it to reach his waste and start seeping under his shirt. Simply put, he was screwed.