The dwellers of the city of New Robinsdale fled under the cover of darkness. There’s not much people left, Amy thought as she stared in front of her. Before her eyes marched the caravan of the King. The guards were atop their steeds, leading the exodus. Common folk rode chariots pulled by horses and followed the lead of the sentries. Trailing behind were the Gustavis.
Amy was sat on top of her horse. The trusted Gilroy neighed softly as Amy looked over her shoulder at the King. He was engaged in conversation with, of all people, her knight, so Henri didn’t notice her. Breathing out an audible sigh, Amy turned her eyes back to the front.
“I can feel something is bothering you, little bird,” declared Geneva, keeping her gaze in the distance. She was atop her weird moose-donkey steed and
