The horses were in a panic. They had no understanding of why the world was blurred as it was. They had no chance to be calmed at the change. They smelled blood and felt pain so they ran on, and Fliss gave them no pause.
The gnome stood braced in the wagon front, one leg pushing her back uncomfortably against the front edge of the seat. She was too small to sit up in the human-sized seat and control the horses, and there was no time to make suitable arrangements. She flicked the horsewhip again to the left of the horses and slid to her right hauling the reigns with her. The beasts, in response, drew away from the steepening roadside. As she leaned to the edge of the wagon front the world passed by her view. She could not help but be drawn to the sights as they rushed by. The world had gained a different hue and her mind raced with the magic that surrounded her. She could see so many more details as they sped on, and Fliss could make the most of every moment to look under every passing leaf.
“FLISS,” Ashlette screamed.
Her friend was in no position to move forward and grab the reins, but the woman desperately pointed ahead at the merchant’s cart in which they were rapidly overcoming. Fliss heaved hard on the leather lines, pulling herself forward onto her knees and against the rough wood of the front of the wagon. The horses bellowed at the sharp tug against their bits, the beasts doing all in their power to correct the blended forces of momentum and magic to go where Fliss pulled. Ahead, the merchant slowly turned to face the coming sound, only to have the adventurers pass in an indiscernible storm of sound and motion.
Fliss eyed the road to check for another obstacle before looking back at the merchant. His horse was slowly rising up, spooked at the sight. She shook her head, hoping that the old man could manage his animal without injury. She turned back and whipped at her own horses again. Ashlette spoke over the din, just loud enough that the words would be heard by the gnome who she spoke at and not Turmer.
“We can’t afford any delays, Fliss, he’s fading.”
The ranger released her grip on the back of the bench and turned her attention back to Zolik. Ashlette’s hand had left a bloodied print atop the wooden seat. Fliss looked away from it and fought back the hordes of distracting emotions and thoughts that tried to pull her attention from the road. She gritted her teeth and slung the whip forward again, cursing the bandits that ruined what should have been an enjoyable journey.