They rode before dawn broke.
Gabriel's ribs ached with every breath, his throat still raw from Castor's grip, but he pushed the pain aside and focused on covering distance. The horses were tired from the journey to Bridgedon, but there was no choice. They had to make Kelmar before the deadline expired.
Six days. We're on day five.
The first day back was brutal. They alternated between canter and walk, stopping only to water the horses and force down cold rations. Gabriel's body protested every mile. His ribs sent sharp pains through his chest with each jarring step the horse took. His throat made swallowing difficult, each breath a reminder of how close Castor had come to crushing his windpipe.
But he didn't slow down.
Around midday they spotted patrol movement on the road ahead. Church colours, moving with the methodical precision of soldiers conducting a search.
"Off the road," Gabriel said quietly.
