It's raining.
The back of the cart has been propped open. It's a reckless move, truly, but it's cramped and claustrophobic in the cart - moreso than the wagon, despite being bigger than the wagon. And the mustiness of the rain makes it worse.
I sit at the back edge of the cart, my feet settled on the footstep, watching as the forest passes by backward.
If anything slides back this way, I'll be able to stop it. And besides Roland I'm probably the only one here strong enough to do that without falling out myself. Celeste can probably do it with her magic, but there's no reason to tire her out when we will quite possibly need her strong and fresh when we get to the village of thieves.
We're not there yet.
We're near the edge of the Latrides border, though. Which is why it's no surprise that the road - such as it still exists - stretching on in front of my vision is empty.
No one would be following us down this road. Not so far out.
