The distant thunder of hooves was what pulled me out of my thoughts.
The sound built gradually, rolling in from somewhere beyond the high stone walls like approaching weather. Rhythmic. Heavy. A lot of it.
Conny, who had been fussing with something in the wooden chest behind me, froze.
Then she scrambled to the window so fast that she nearly took out a candle stand.
"Rita," she hissed, plastering herself to the side of the window frame and peering out at an angle in a way that looked both urgent and completely unhinged. "Rita. Rita."
"I heard it," Rita said tightly, already crossing the room.
"Is it—"
"Aye."
Conny made a sound that I could only describe as a squeak getting into a fistfight with a gasp. Her hand flew to her chest. "Oh gods. Oh gods, they're here."
They're here.
So
