21
Witchwind
Brandyn guessed they’d been riding at least a day. It had to be longer, but he’d counted one night past the one that had driven them from the Tavern at the Middle of the World, and they were fast approaching another. He supposed that made two. Two days of pushing a pace that should’ve killed all three nags, and had likely killed Hollyn, if he could find the courage to confirm.
Exhaustion tore at the back of his eyelids. He fought desperately against the urge to roll right off the back of his beast and tumble into the abyss. Even a final sleep would be better than none.
They hadn’t eaten. They hadn’t slept. Hollyn didn’t stir at all. They’d slowed only when the path required more care, but that meant their pursuers had to slow as well. Neither Brandyn nor Storm complained.
