He traveled most of the night, keeping to the forest as much as he could and avoiding well traversed paths. Only when the sky was beginning to lighten to he stop to rest. He set three sets of snares before he climbed a nearby tree, thick with foliage to hide him from passersby. He chose a spot with two large branches and settled in to rest facing the trunk, his pack placed in front of him to help hold him in while also keeping it from falling as he slept. 

He woke about mid-day to the sound of birds singing, but their song stopped as he stirred from his rest and stretched. At least he knew that he was alone in his section of the woods; the birds would not have been singing if he weren't. He climbed down from the tree and checked his snares, finding nothing in any of them, then took care of business before setting off.

He ate a piece of his cheese and bread as he moved, not wanting to start a fire to cook the rice until he was further from his village. He knew that no one would be hunting him, but he just wanted to put as much distance between himself and that place as possible. He was comfortable in the woods, and over the enxt few days, he found himself growing more confident as he put distance between himself and his home village.

On the fifth day of his journey the woods came to an end. He stood for a long moment at the edge of the trees, still hidden among the forest growth as he looked out upon the field in front of him. He couldn't stay in the trees forever, he knew that, but he wished that he could have more cover than the plains provided. The large, grassy area stretched as far as he could see in every direction except back, and he knew he wasn't about to turn around.

With a sigh, he hoisted his pack and set out into the field, the grass reaching halfway up his calf as he moved through it. It was uncomfortable, being so conspicuous, but he shook off the anxiety and continued on his way. Where, he didn't know, but something just felt right as he got further and further from his place of birth.

Three days through the plains, and in those three days, he didn't speak to another soul. He had seen a pair of travelers crossing the plains, heading in the direction he was traveling away from, but they were probably close to a mile away from him. Nevertheless, he dropped to the ground and waited until he could no longer see them before he continued, hoping to not have to come into contact with anyone.

It worked, and by the time he reached another heavily wooded area, he still hadn't interacted with anyone. He chose a big, thick tree and began to climb, more than ready to settle in for rest after the nervewracking few hours of sleep he had caught while out on the plains. He drifted off in his tree rather quickly, the sun only barely beginning to peek up over the horizon as he fell into slumber.

A distant sound awoke him, and he came awake with adrenaline running through his veins. He sat motionless in his tree, blinking to adjust to the filtered sunlight of the forest, then the noise reached his ears and he realized what it was.

Someone pleading for mercy. 

"Please, no," a voice begged, off to his left and probably twenty yards away. "Just take what I have and leave me be."

The answer was too quiet for Hoya to make out, but the sharp cry of pain told that the assailant had a differing opinion. As the sounds of a beating reached him, Hoya shifted uncomfortably in his tree and wondered what he should do. 

He could help, he knew. He was young and strong and agile, and he could reach out to this suffering person. It was what his father would have done, he knew. He also knew, however, that reaching out to help someone else was just asking for persecution on himself, and that ws downright stupid. At least, according to most people he knew, it was.

Then a young girl's words came from his memory and pushed him into action. "People turn their backs on the Light because they're too afraid to stand up for what i