Chapter Nine
Trailing behind the troop was as much fun for Mor as it sounded. He was not a good horseman, and he could tell the troop was moving slower on account of his falling behind. Still, the distance that grew and shrank between him and the other men worried him. He feared being left out of sight at some bend in the road and then the creature erupting from the tears to tear him apart. They would never know what happened to him if he didn’t have the time to scream. With this thought in mind, he closed the gap, whipping the horse unmercifully to get there — convincing himself as he did that the horse was in as much danger back there as he’d been.
“How far are we going?” Mor asked the man who held the second last position on the narrow muddy road.
“Until we’re told to stop,” he said
