Chap­ter XII begins at the cusp of a dar­ing escape through the guard­ed cor­ri­dors of Phutra. Dis­guised in the shed skins of Mahars, the group—composed of the nar­ra­tor, Per­ry, Ghak, and the ever-cun­ning Hooja—moves in silence, rely­ing on the unlike­li­ness of their ruse to mask their des­per­ate bid for free­dom. The dim torch­light flick­er­ing across the stone walls casts long, eerie shad­ows that match their fear of dis­cov­ery. Every step echoes with risk, as Sagoths patrol the halls with lazy sus­pi­cion, unaware of the bold plan unfold­ing beneath their noses. This infil­tra­tion is not just a phys­i­cal act but a psy­cho­log­i­cal test, where the weight of pos­si­ble fail­ure hangs heavy over them. In that moment, sur­vival means more than speed—it demands com­po­sure, luck, and an unwa­ver­ing com­mit­ment to the cause. Trust in dis­guise becomes their shield.

As they reach the grand avenue of Phutra, the dis­guise is stretched to its lim­it. The busy space is crowd­ed with activ­i­ty, and the group must move with cal­cu­lat­ed ease to avoid sus­pi­cion. Sagoths and enslaved humans bus­tle around them, cre­at­ing a tense maze of motion and sur­veil­lance. The slight­est mis­step could unrav­el every­thing. Eyes brush over them, lin­ger­ing a sec­ond too long, but nev­er shout­ing alarm. Through clenched jaws and held breath, they make their way past the city’s edge. The first breath of open air feels like rebirth, but the shad­ow of pur­suit clings fast. There is no celebration—only the need to keep mov­ing before their escape is dis­cov­ered.

Once out­side the city’s grip, the ter­rain offers both sanc­tu­ary and new threats. The forests are dense, offer­ing cov­er but demand­ing sta­mi­na. Perry’s con­di­tion begins to slow them down. The old­er man, exhaust­ed and wound­ed, becomes a lia­bil­i­ty in prac­ti­cal terms, yet his wis­dom and loy­al­ty are irre­place­able. An argu­ment brews, with some urg­ing for speed over sol­i­dar­i­ty. Ghak’s voice ris­es above the rest—calm but firm. He refus­es to aban­don any­one, even in the face of death. His deci­sion affirms their uni­ty, set­ting a moral tone for the jour­ney ahead. The group’s val­ues are test­ed not by the Sagoths, but by their response to weak­ness with­in.

To improve their odds, Hoo­ja is sent ahead to ral­ly the Sar­i­ans. His role, while impor­tant, is also strategic—distance him from Per­ry and oth­ers who now slow the group. Trust in Hoo­ja remains frag­ile, and his rep­u­ta­tion casts a long shad­ow. Still, with time run­ning short, the deci­sion is made. The path for­ward leads them through rugged hills and unchart­ed wood­land, each step echo­ing with the fear of pur­suit. The ter­rain, while nat­ur­al, feels alive with unseen dan­gers. The Sagoths may not always be vis­i­ble, but their pres­ence is felt—lurking, track­ing, always just behind.

Their jour­ney trans­forms into a test of endurance. Hunger gnaws at them, sleep comes in frac­tured bursts, and nerves fray beneath the con­stant pres­sure. The Sagoths do not relent, dri­ven by instinct and com­mand to reclaim what escaped. The jun­gle clos­es around the group, both pro­tect­ing and threat­en­ing them. As they pass nar­row pass­es and steep ridges, small victories—like find­ing drink­able water or spot­ting a path—become life­lines. Every deci­sion car­ries the weight of con­se­quence. Yet through it all, Perry’s resolve nev­er fades. His pain is vis­i­ble, but his spir­it remains intact, serv­ing as a silent source of courage for the rest.

The true heart of this chap­ter lies in its explo­ration of loy­al­ty and lead­er­ship. The pro­tag­o­nist begins to see that sur­vival is not only about strength or strat­e­gy, but the bonds formed in suf­fer­ing. Ghak’s insis­tence on sol­i­dar­i­ty, Perry’s endurance, and even Hooja’s cal­cu­lat­ed risks all rep­re­sent dif­fer­ent facets of resilience. This is no longer sim­ply an escape from captivity—it’s the birth of some­thing larg­er: an emerg­ing resis­tance. The jour­ney through Pellucidar’s wilds sharp­ens their pur­pose and strips away illu­sion. In the face of unend­ing pur­suit, what remains is a raw, shared will to live freely.

By the chapter’s end, the Sagoths remain unseen but nev­er absent. Their pres­ence is a drum­beat behind every deci­sion, a reminder that free­dom must be earned again and again. As the group con­tin­ues toward the cliffs of Sari, their uni­ty strength­ens. Each mile cov­ered is a vic­to­ry in itself. Though bat­tered, they press for­ward, dri­ven not just by fear, but by the grow­ing flame of hope that, per­haps, a new future lies just ahead.