Ken and I followed the tracks at a quick pace, boots crunching over damp dirt and scattered leaves. The road twisted slightly as it pushed through the forest, curving left, then right, never quite straight. Whoever had taken the cart wasn't in a hurry, but they also weren't wandering aimlessly. The marks were… consistent.
A faint light flickered ahead between the trees.
"There," Ken whispered.
We slowed as we approached the edge of the forest. The ground sloped downward, giving us a clear view of the road below. From up here, we could see it plainly.
The cart.
And someone driving it.
The horses trudged along at a lazy pace, their hooves dull against the dirt. A lantern hung from the side of the cart, swaying slightly, casting long, uneven shadows across the road.
I held out my hand without looking at Ken.
He hesitated for half a second, then placed his dagger into my palm.
"W-we're not killing him, right?" he asked quietly. "Right?"
