Even while running for his life, Pieter did not allow his mind the luxury of giving in to panic. He was not a coward, but a survivor. A coward curled into a ball and whimpered while a survivor thought of a way out. So Pieter evaluated distances, glanced over his shoulder once in a while, and calculated. Things did not look good. He could flee straight through the trees and hope the knight went after Leopold, but it would spell death for the miller's son and only give the initiate a short respite.
Pieter's gaze locked onto the shrine to Shallya. Shallya the merciful, who was anathema to Nurgle and its minions. The initiate was not superstitious enough to believe that his second favorite deity had the power to keep the knight out of Her shrine, but in these dire straits, he still clung to the desperate hope that She could lend a hand, if only in a small way. If nothing else, the shrine's cramped confines would force the knight to dismount and fight him on foot, costing it precious time.
This is stupid. On foot or on horseback, it'll kill me in no time.
It was a long shot, but it was the best chance he had. He remembered the corpses the knight had left behind... and if he, too, was going to die today, by the gods, it would not be from a blow to the back. Breathing hard, he pushed himself even harder and motioned Leopold not to follow him.
Shallya, he thought desperately. Shallya, Shallya, Shallya, Shallya... I'll give You anything You want. Anything You want. Anything. Anything. Anything...