with enemies like these who needs friends

Artisan's words were music to Armando's ears. He hauled ass over the rocks and didn't even pause to wipe at his face after bounding through a cloud of blue fireflies. Only once did he dare glance over his shoulder and when he did he wished he hadn't. What he saw scared the daylights out of him. And he couldn't even see what the damn thing was, all he saw was the otherworldly glow, the presence of whatever beast was back there. That little bit of shine scared the shit out of him because it wasn't natural. Armando didn't know much about the supernatural; he'd never really had a reason to consider it; but he'd heard the sort of ooky spooky stories you'd hear around a campfire and that was enough for him.

Throwing caution to the wind Armando sought to leap up onto Artisan's back. In his haste he was all claws, but he couldn't be bothered to be concerned about his ride's comfort when a literal hell beast was on their heels. Up ahead there was a split in the stone; two paths that looked equally narrow and steep. Having never seen either one before, Armando scrambled to decide which one was better on appearance alone. In the end it was more or less a coin toss. "Left! Left! Take the left one!" He wasn't a praying man but in that moment Armando was mentally sending pleas out to anyone who would listen. He was promising anything and everything. His soul, Artisan's soul, his future children's souls; he'd give anything to get away.