A convoy of five carts trundled out of town, following the road that ran beside the big river. Before long, the trees thinned out and the forest became rocky plains. A morning mist had fallen, tricking the eye by making monsters of the large, jagged rocks that littered the grassland. Louis had never seen landscape like this. He was only getting further from the home he so desperately wanted to return to. If they made good progress, they’d reach Stonewater before nightfall
Louis’s cart was in the middle, perhaps because Warwick feared he might attempt to flee. The thought had occurred to him. Even if he couldn’t get away on the cart, he could try turning back into a wolf and running his way home. But on foot it would take days and he’d have to spend the whole journey as a beast. Not an appealing prospect. What would he say to his brother and father when he returned home without his horse, cart or a single stitch of clothing? And quite aside from all that, Louis was hoping he’d never have to change again.
The wolf was resting now. In fact, it wasn’t hard for Louis to ignore it completely, to box it into a tiny corner of his mind and leave it alone. But could he keep it under control? Could he go his whole life pretending it wasn’t there?
The day wore on. The mist rose. The sun became harsh and the plains more steadily littered with scree and stones. Something about this place made Louis uneasy. The wind whistled eerily as it licked through the rocks. And every now and then, Louis thought he caught sight of movement in the corner of his eye.
The cart in front of him stopped so abruptly that Pearl nearly ran into the back of it. The whole convoy shuddered to a shaky halt, and confused voices called out to the cart in front. Louis leant out to see what was wrong. There was a pile of rocks obstructing the road. A landslide? But where had it come from?
Warwick and a few of his men were inspecting it, looking about to see if they could get around. But one side was far too rocky and on the other was the river. After sharing a few concerned words with his men, Warwick clambered up on top of his cart and addressed the convoy.
‘Looks like we’re going to have to shift these by hand. If we all pitch in we’ll make short work-’
A rasping hiss came out of the wind. Before Warwick could turn, an arrow stabbed into his arm. Shouts and yells echoed through the rocks. Hooves thundered toward them and Louis caught snatches of horses and men galloping between the rocks, their blades flashing under the sunlight. Bandits!?
Louis dove into the footrest and retrieved the knife John had given him. When he returned, he saw one of the attackers, making a beeline straight for him. Little did Louis know he had locked eyes with his second kill.