The rocking of the carriage made the leather of the reins creak and the iron of the wheels squeak against the beaten stone road. The rhythmic sound of hooves echoed under the cloudy sky, while fine dust rose and mixed with the cold wind coming from the north. Inside, the space was cramped, illuminated only by a lamp attached to the side. Samira was leaning back on one of the benches, her dirty boots resting on the opposite seat, her gaze bored and her fingers drumming on the hilt of her sword.
"This is ridiculous," she grumbled, looking out the small window. "We could get to Thirval in less than an hour if we flew."
Bellatrix, sitting in front, didn't take her eyes off the road. Her face was partially covered by the black hood, and her expression remained serene, as always.
"We could," she replied calmly. "But a pair of dragons flying over the coast would attract a little more attention than a merchant's carriage, don't you think?"
