ETS (Escape the Storm) Dylan 1.1

Dylan went about his day in the usual fashion. He rose before dawn, showered and ate breakfast--consisting of a banana and some oatmeal--before seven. He was outside--dressed and ready to chop wood--before seven-thirty. His faithful dog, Goliath trotted beside him as he jogged his way down barely-discernible paths.

It had rained the night before, so the way was muddy, and he had some difficulty on a fairly-steep hill. He came very close to slipping and falling into a tree but was able to catch himself just running head-long into its prickly trunk. Goliath barked once, as though to warn him of the treacherous [terrain]. Dylan smiled ruefully, thanking the dog with sarcasm. And shaking his head because it had come much too late.

Goliath suddenly took off--with no warning--yapping and barking as he ran full-speed ahead. Dylan shouted for Goliath to come back, but his rapidly-[retreating], four-legged form disappeared around a curve in the path. Dylan took off running after the animal, suspecting the [pet type] had just run along, glad to get out of the house after being cooped up inside for so long yesterday. But he knew instinctively that his [flea-infested] friend wouldn't just run off. Not without a reason.

That reason came into view as he [trotted] down the path--nearly falling but ignoring his [unsteadiness] as he hurried along. Goliath was the last physical memory he possessed of his past. One that--had he been strong enough to give away he would have. He had been thankful for many years that Goliath still kept him company.

Sweat trickled down his neck, sliding beneath his shirt and [tickling] his back, but he didn't stop. He continued calling for his dog, but Goliath's barks were far in the distance. Sounding frantic, almost worried. Dylan ran even faster, his arms and legs pumping, his breaths coming in puffs and gasps. He didn't know what he would do if something happened to Goliath.

He figured he would catch the [disobedient animal] and lock him in the basement until his evening walk. He couldn't punish Goliath severely--had never been able to do so. He ran faster down the slippery path, ignoring how the muck sucked at his sneaker-clad feet, making it even more difficult to run.

"Keep barking, Goliath," he urged the animal aloud. Even though the animal couldn't hear--much less understand--him. He continued on down the way, catching himself when he tripped on a tree root, and barely maintaining his upright position when he slipped on a particularly slippery bit of ground.

When he at last reached the place where he could see the [dog type] sniffing, howling, barking, and sniffing once more, Dylan lifted his fingers to his mouth and let out a shrill whistle. One that always worked to summon the dog to him. Usually. Not so, this time.

He watched--still jogging--as Goliath sniffed once more. He could now make out the form lying on the ground. It was a woman, judging from the waves of hair falling all over her. Blood seeped on the ground from...somewhere. He picked up his speed, surging forward and reaching the panting, [yapping] dog within seconds. Falling to his knees beside the woman he brushed some of the hair aside, pressing his fingers to her neck in search of a pulse.

It was there, but weak. The puddle of red gathering on the ground worried him, but he couldn't be too concerned with that right now. He needed to get her back to his cabin, where it was warm. The pallor of her skin actually scared him. The thinness of her coat--which barely qualified as a jacket--informed him without a doubt that she had not expected such extreme cold. He did wonder what she was doing out here so early in the morning.

Shrugging because he needed to focus on getting her warm and not what she was doing out here, Dylan promptly removed his own coat, carefully lifting and turning her unconscious form. With some difficulty he maneuvered the extra layer around behind her, pulling it closed and zipping the two ends together.