Warning! Spoilers for book 8!

Title: Running for my Life
Author: Elfpen

Summary: Halt O'Carrick, Prince of Clonmel and rightful heir to the throne is running for his life. Tradition wants him crowned. His parents want him obedient. His brother wants him dead. He follows his instincts – he runs for his life. But to where? Did he really have a life to run for in the first place? Sometimes to find something, you have to lose everything first.

Author's Note: Started writing this after I read 'Kings of Clonmel'. Gah, I know I should be updating my other stories, but I couldn't help it! The O'Carrick family drama bug bit me! This first chapter will be a quick introduction to Halt's predicament, and the next chapter will be a few flashbacks to previous years. After that, Halt will be headed off to Araluen.

Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Prologue: Run

His cheeks were whipped pink from the wind. He couldn't help his heavy breathing as he dashed through the dense forest, not bothering with time-consuming stealth or subtlety. This was a blind, head-long run with the anxiety and frustration of years pent up behind it to propel his slight frame forward. A large bush-growth smacked against him painfully as he flew past, but he ignored it. If there were tears running out of his eyes, he didn't notice them. He was preoccupied with one thought – running. He had to - he had to. He should have run long ago, before it could have come to this. He should have left them months – no, years ago, and he wouldn't have had to gone through what he'd suffered the past years.

After a long while, after he felt he'd put enough distance between himself and his former home, he slowed to a stop and collapsed down by a tall oak, his lungs heaving for air. He pulled his knees up and rested his head against them, wrapping his arms about his legs as he tried to sort through his present predicament.

He didn't know exactly where he was heading or where he should be going, but he did know one thing for certain: There wasn't a chance on the planet that he was ever going back to Clonmel. At least, not for himself. He had a promise to keep, and keep it he would – but he would never return to the way things had been.

But then, there was that question of the future: Where? Where was he going? What was he going to do? He knew very well what he was running from, but what, exactly, was he running to? He had no plan, no clear goal in mind. All he had were the clothes on his back, a three-day supply of rations, his instincts, and his life.

Then again, was it really a life in the first place?

A distant ruckus drove the thoughts out of his mind. Vaguely, he could hear human voices coming towards him. His brother's was among them. Quickly, he rose, hoisted his small pack up on his shoulders, and ran. For what, he didn't know, but he would find out eventually. He had to.