text:     You run full-pelt into the woods, exhausting your supply of stamina and then some. Your lungs beg for air, and your face goes flush as you prop yourself up against a nearby tree. You appear to have escaped your would-be pursuers, but the concept of a militiaman running about as an undead beast will likely bring them back in force. 
  
  
      You can see the gateway that you saw a vampire walk through earlier. Perhaps, “see” is the wrong word; you can sense it. Like something in the corner of your vision, you know that it must exist, and where, even if you aren’t laying eyes  on it directly. 
  
  
      Out of options and desperate, you approach the hole in the ground. It’s cold and has no precise dimensions, appearing to you as a  circle of indeterminate radius, shifting and slithering along the ground. It feels strangely inviting; like a blanketed bed in the morning. 
  
  
      You could slip through, but there’s no guarantee of what you’ll see on the other side. Or, you could stay right here. 
  > You don't
      You decide to reject the vampirism thrust upon you. If it means dying as a man, so be it. You turn your back to the gateway, and walk back towards the town. Already you can feel yourself growing feverish and weak, as the disease takes hold. Soon, the son will burn you to a crisp; and that’s just fine with you.
  
  
      You put your head to the ground and close your eyes. You’ve earned yourself some rest. 