We could hear the hounds still baying in the distance, but this sound was too customary to give us any uneasiness.
But our progress was terribly slow.

Every step hurt fearfully.

The Creek bed was full of roots and snags, and briers, and vines trailed across it.

These caught and tore our bare feet and legs, rendered abnormally tender by the scurvy.

It seemed as if every step was marked with blood.