The attackers lay dead in the sand, their headless bodies already beginning to sink into the shifting dunes.
But there was no time to dwell on what had just happened. The animals had scattered in the chaos, their instincts driving them to flee from the violence.
The goats were already far away, their small bodies disappearing over a distant dune. The cows were running toward a cluster of rocks, their heavy hooves kicking up clouds of dust.
The Moatts were moving slowly but steadily away from the caravan, their massive bodies swaying with each step.
Darion was already running toward the nearest group of animals.
The wagon men joined in, their initial shock fading as they realized the urgency of the situation.
They had been paid to deliver these animals, and if they lost them, they would be responsible for the loss.
They sprinted after the cows and Moatts, their voices calling out to the animals, trying to calm them.
