CHAPTER FOUR
We found the horse impatiently waiting for us, having eaten most of the local flora within reach. Our loyal steed was only too happy to be drawn away from the vicinity of the Gallery and back down the High Road.
“How long will it take us to get to this carnival?” I asked my guide.
“A day if we’re lucky, two if traffic is bad,” he warned me.
The traffic was bad. We rolled eastward to the capital city of the werewolves and on the next day we turned north after skirting the Gallery. The road took us to green pastures and large farms, but we soon found ourselves in a traffic jam of wagons, carts, and shouting matches. Part of the problem was a few wrecked wagons courtesy of a crash and the other half was all the people who’d tried to roll past them and stuck themselves tog
