Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-27550231-20200125011422/@comment-28358106-20200305030951

An hour later and a mile further away, the little caravan trundles along slowly in single file. It doesn't really have a choice. The road is sunken, with barely enough room for two carts to pass each other, and they would have a difficult time of even that---the road is so rutted, to diverge even a little or attempt to move faster than walking pace would rattle the wooden wheels to pieces. The drivers urge their mules on, cursing with every creak and bump.

They round a sharp corner, and see something ahead. The lead driver squints, making sure he knows what he's seeing. He swears to himself, but does not stop the caravan until they are within speaking distance. His young daughter, in the seat beside him, shifts uncomfortably. She whispers.

"Papa...who is that?"

"Hush, girl." Warily, the man sets his reins on the yoke bar and slowly begins to climb out of the cart, his eyes fixed forward.

Only ten yards or so ahead is an overturned cart, its wheels shattered. The horse is on the ground, mostly covered with detritus from the wreckage. In the dirt and loam, mud on her hands and feet and her finery ruined, Juno struggles feebly to move a broken wheel. She turns to the caravan, her dirty, tear-streaked face showing. She stammers, choking back sobs.

"I-I-I'm sorry, sir. M-my cart...my cart has been...robbed.  I'll...I'll get it clear for you..."