She actually said yes. Jeron's savior, the woman who looked ready to skewer him with her sword, had actually agreed to his bargain. For a fleeting moment, Jeron's eyes actually widened with astonishment, his lips parting with disbelief. Never had any such interaction with anyone ever gone so smoothly; he had fully expected her to say no. Of course, the situation couldn't have been more ideal; it was essentially accept his offer or die trying to leave this place alone. He'd worry about how guilty he should or should not feel about trapping her in such a situation later.

Jeron had expected to bear part of the man's weight, but the woman surprised him when she shifted the man's weight more squarely on her back and moved with surprising swiftness out the door. So she was stronger than she looked. No doubt she had the capability to kill him if she wanted to. He'd think about that later as well.

For now, he followed her into chaos, the likes of which he had never seen. Ice drummed against Jeron's head, hammered against his back and arms, a persistent, stinging pain. The dark line of the forest's edge almost seemed to beckon him; all he had to do was muster enough strength to sprint but for a moment. However, he had promised that he would help this woman, so he remained at her side. At best she could only manage a jog; she bore too much weight on her back to move any faster. A quick glance around verified that no Zhentarim, or anyone else for that matter, was following them; this ice storm was proving an effective distraction. If not for the danger of the ice, they very well could stroll into the woods without incident. 

As the chill nipped at Jeron's cheeks, he could feel heat radiating against his back. Red-hot light descended, illuminating the town. Jeron glanced behind him to see a massive swirl of fire engulf every building and tree behind them, all consumed to ashes in its wake. He could hear the screams of the townsfolk, could see figures shifting erratically through the flames. He looked away, facing forward, as an image of his human mother flashed across his mind. He had found their little hut burned to its frame, and his mother, who had been caught in the blaze... He had mourned her death, sobbed for her, even though his last memory of her alive was when she looked away, silent, while the village guards had taken him...

Jeron gritted his teeth, allowing the fear to block out the memories and block out the pain. The vortex of fire swelled towards them; he could feel the heat against his back intensify. They were moving too slow.

The woman stumbled. Without thinking, Jeron grabbed one of the man's arms, slinging it around his shoulders as he shifted some of his weight on him. With this man's weight evenly distributed between Jeron and his savior, they moved much faster, almost in sync, fear and desperation driving them forward. Jeron could see flames curl around them, could feel the heat lick at his heels...

They broke through the treeline of the forest, the air cooling around them at once, the intense light dimming to a mild summer evening glow. The forest seemed immune to the fire, not a single leaf singed. A quick glance behind and beside Jeron verified that the man and woman accompanying him were not on fire, though the man's clothes were a little singed. If the hailstorm hadn't soaked them, their outcome may have been different.

Jeron did not stop. "We keep moving," he gasped, completely out of breath, every muscle on fire from the effort to keep in motion. His back throbbed like a hundred scraping daggers from the way his pack and the man's weight chaffed against his wounds. His legs felt like jelly but weighed as though they were lead, and his side still throbbed. His savior was also wounded, and Jeron was not sure if the man they carried would survive the night. Still, he pressed on, locking his eyes at the shadowed forest ahead. "We stay off the paths," he insisted, "we move until nightfall. We need to get as far away from this place as we can." The further away from the anguished wails of Shadowdale they could go, the better.