He'd done it! Again.
Mikhail had lost count of the times he had run away from this master, let alone the number of times he had run across every single master that had owned him the last decade. It never mattered how many times he made a break for freedom, it was always snatched away from him far too quickly. He was bitter about that fact, among so many others.
The dark metal collar around his neck felt like a giant weight, the few links of thick chain hanging from it rattled as he ran through the forest, red eyes well suited for seeing in the deep dark. Behind him, and gaining, were the howls and bays of hounds. His master hadn't wasted any time sending hunters to fetch him back. They were annoyingly persistent, and he was flagging with exhaustion. It was entirely the stupid collar's fault. He could never truly escape unless he could find a way to get the blasted thing off his neck. It drained his strength and blocked his magic power.
Mikhail heard an alarmingly close howl and turned his head, eyes darting through shadows behind him, trying to spot his pursuers. Those few moments not paying attention to what was in front of him caused him to stumble right over a bank, falling to his hands and knees in a creek, breath coming out in ragged pants.
His thoughts had been so consumed with fleeing the slave hadn't even noticed that he'd run straight towards someone's camp, apparently. Mikhail looked up, noticing that there was someone there, and cried out in fright.
"Please, help me!" Asking for help wasn't something he relished doing, but what choice did he have? He was desperate enough to hope this stranger would be willing to aid him.