Lights strung overhead on coils of rope, laced with ribbons of color. Tambourines clapped, feet stopped, and everywhere the twirl of the dance.
In the distance Victor’s body stood against the sun, easily mistaken for another hill that dotted the landscape; a fitting end for him. The others turned their horses. No one hurried or lingered, they simply rode along, silent as their former enemy. They rode into the night, and through the next day, stopping only to water the horses.
“Where is he?”
Branches slapped against my arm. The brush was too thick. I couldn’t see a thing, but I couldn’t stop. I’d never catch up. A sudden opening left me with three steps before the drop. I never slowed. Boughs broke my fall. Loose stone groaned under my feet. Something else crashed through the brush, off to the left. He was close. I ran again, taking great leaps whenever I could, hoping to avoid any holes.
“Just a little further,” Jon said.