Dean ran through the city streets, chasing after his quarry with reckless abandon. He crashed through crowds of people, shoving some of them to the ground in his pursuit of the beast. He hated chasing people like this; they were so damnably fast, and even for him, it was hard to keep up. Dean ran like he had never run in his life, trying his best to chase down the wretched creature from the pit. He swiped aside a merchant who got in his way, spilling the contents of the poor man’s stall onto the ground. He was trailed by a series of angry shouts, all the deepest curses anyone in this town knew. He sighed, rolling his eyes and continuing his mad dash after the creature.

Dean jumped high, catapulting himself over a group of children who were playing in the middle of the street. He rolled as he landed, bringing himself back to his feet and trying fervently to quicken his pace. But his legs simply refused to carry him any faster than he was already traveling. He grunted, each pounding of his legs upon the hard ground a labor, every step an agonizing effort. His muscles ached, his thighs protested and his calves shouted curses at him.

The thing turned a corner. Dean followed it in hot pursuit, but once he turned around the same corner, it was nowhere to be found. He wheeled around, looking behind him, and checking the sky as well for any sign of it. Nothing. It had simply vanished into thin air, it seemed. Dean slammed his fist into the wall of the nearest building.


“Damnit,” he muttered, his speech broken by his labored breathing.