258
The falling bough misses your legs by little more than a few inches. Chan grabs you by the arm and drags you to your feet, and then together you rush through the trees to escape from your hulking pursuers.
Only when you sense that it is safe to halt, do you throw yourself down upon the cool earth and fight to catch your breath. Chan drops to the ground close by, and you can tell that he is both shocked and saddened by the ferocity of the encounter and by the loss of his favourite stallion. Yet he proves himself to be resilient, and within the space of a few short minutes, he is back on his feet and ready to go. ‘Come, my lord,’ he says, resolutely. ‘We must press on. Let us flee this godforsaken place.’
