Eskar rode beside the lead carriage in a state that could most charitably be described as deeply traumatized, his face carrying the glazed expression of a man who had witnessed things his mind was still struggling to incorporate into a coherent understanding of reality.
He had hidden himself during the ambush with the robed attackers and the black orcs, finding shelter behind the carriages and staying there while the fighting raged around him.
The attack had left him completely rigid and terrified, and he was constantly looking to his sides, as he was still afraid that orcs may attack again.
The streets they traveled through were busy with the evening crowd, people finishing their day's work and heading home or to taverns or to whatever other destinations called them as the light faded, and the variety of those people was itself remarkable, a mixture of races and cultures that Jake had never seen concentrated in a single place before.
