Just one more door...

Perhaps he had pushed them a bit too far.  He could still smell the musty stench of rot from the skeletal corpse that had fallen on him.  He flashed back to the memory of the horrific creature and its blood curdling scream from behind that last door.  Aras was sure that he had never run that fast before in his life.  As he fled, the sound of his boots hitting the stone floor was drowned out only by the pounding of his own heartbeat.

He remembered everything in vivid detail...the mutant, three-armed goblin and his toxic breath, the glass covered corpse in the glassworks.  All of it was so exhilarating.  He had never felt this alive collecting the guild's protection money in Magnamar.  This was living.  This was freedom.  This was the adventure that the old scoundrels in the guild hall would tell stories about.

Perhaps though...he had pushed his companions a bit too far.  They had warned him that their spells and divine magic had been nearly exhausted for the day.  He had urged them on, thinking that a pile of gold and salvation lay just a door away.  He was sure that just around the corner he might find some long forgotten ancient treasure that could fix all of his problems.  He could pay off the law in Magnimar and live comfortably for awhile.  The thought of a life without having to constantly look over his shoulder, a life without a cover story on top of a cover story.  The reality was, however, instead of finding a life changing treasure behind that last door, they had found a terrifying creature set on killing them all.  The irony was not lost on Aras.

"Perhaps I will need to listen to their council a bit more if I wish to survive out on my own" Aras thought to himself.  In the guild it was easy.  Most of the thinking was done for you.  They pointed you in a direction and gave you explicit orders which were to be obeyed.  Here things were a bit different.  By opening that door he could have gotten them all killed.  Though powerful, each of his companions was fragile in a way: Skender with his flimsy cloth robes, Craylin with his simple mind and Garadin with his belief in 'doing the right thing.'  Even Aras had fallen in the battle in the Glassworks.  If not for the priest's healing he may have bled out on that dirty stone floor.

They all needed each other.  It was a hard realization for Aras to accept.  He was an orphaned child, kidnapped, sold into slavery and then forced into a life of thievery.  Trust does not come easy.  Connections and friends are weapons which may be used against you.  Maybe though, he had been wrong all along.  Or just maybe he was right at the time, but the times had changed.

As Aras finally stepped out of the Glassworks and into the fresh air of Sandpoint, he took a deep breath.  He had learned many lessons today.  If he did not adapt, if he clung to his old ways of thinking....he would die.

"Today is the first day in the life of Aras of Sandpoint" the rogue said to himself.  He fell into marching order with his companions and occasionally gave a watchful glance back over his shoulder as they made their way back to the inn.