Tilly POV
They found Greyson, eventually.
He was alive, unfortunately.
And it was back to the tiny carriage again but this time, he knew well enough to keep his distance.
The carriage swayed for hours afterwards. The wheels barely passed the mud-slicked road. The horses were exhausted. Their breath came in white puffs.
Poor creatures.
Chase was watching the clouds. His jaw was tight. His hands were clenched. He was worried but he didn't say it out loud. He didn't have to.
"Do you think it's going to rain?" I found myself asking him.
A flicker of surprise on his face was genuinely replaced by relief.
"It's a storm, I think" He stared at the sky vehemently now. "It won't be safe to continue. Do you mind if we stopped for a while just until the storm passes?"
He stared at me, waiting patiently for a response. But I shrugged.
What do I care? Today. Tomorrow. Does it matter?
"We need to stop," he said to Coach.
