[Where is he? He can't say. He's stumbled past houses; fields; temples. The population thins as he keeps running, and that's a good thing, that's his goal. But the pain does not abate. If anything, the abortive encounters of the past few days have left him in an even worse state than before, a place of half-satisfaction that demands much more than it received.
Koltira does not tire, but he does weaken. He kneels down in short grass, at the edge of an abandoned field, not far from the dark treeline of the woods. He heaves, and covers his face with his hands. Hands already dark with blood, both familiar and foreign. He rakes his nails in the soil and he screams.]
RAMIR + HELLBOY -- OUTSKIRTS, NEAR THE WOODS
Koltira does not tire, but he does weaken. He kneels down in short grass, at the edge of an abandoned field, not far from the dark treeline of the woods. He heaves, and covers his face with his hands. Hands already dark with blood, both familiar and foreign. He rakes his nails in the soil and he screams.]