Riley climbed into the caravan with a grateful breath, feeling the weight of the ore in her small pouch settle beside her. The driver, a man with a sun worn face and a gentleness in his eyes, patted the wooden seat beside him.

  “You look like you could use the break,” he said.

  She nodded, unsure how to express how much that meant. He flicked the reins and the horses started forward. The wheels rolled through the gate, past the wooden palisade, and out onto the road that traced the river’s slow path.

  Riley turned back briefly to watch Rivermark shrink behind them. It had been a brief visit, too quick to understand the rhythm of the place, but long enough to leave its mark. The pickpocket almost derailed her in thought, in spirit and in stride. But at least she left with something. A handful of ore was better than nothing. If she was lucky, it would be enough to tip the tower into its next repair, or at least start the process.

  She considered checking the HUD to see if anything had updated since she left, but she pushed away the impulse. She wanted a moment to breathe without numbers or bars or timers ticking in the corner of her vision.

  The driver cleared his throat. “Name’s Garron,” he said with a broad, uncomplicated smile.

  “Riley,” she replied. Her smile was smaller, softer, but sincere.

  “I drive these roads once or twice a week,” Garron continued. “During off season anyway.”

  He had the frame of a man who had once been strong in youth but had softened over years spent seated behind reins instead of lifting heavy loads. His face had lines of sun and travel etched into it. Handsome once, she thought, but now worn down by a life that demanded more than it returned.

  “How long have you been traveling this road?” Riley asked.

  “Oh, a long stretch,” Garron said with a small nod. “Many seasons. Probably more than you have been alive. I’ve watched the road change, watched people change. I have seen plenty. Seen things I wish I could forget too. But I like the work. Suits me well enough.”

  Riley smiled back. She was surprised by how easy it felt talking to him Zelgra had been kind but intense. Garron was the opposite, a man who lived at a slower pace, one that matched the rocking of the caravan and the gentle clop of the horses.

  He continued talking, mostly small things. The weather this season. The slow pace of business. The way the road changed after storms and how sometimes he had to clear fallen branches himself. Riley found herself responding, easing into the conversation with a comfort she had not felt in years, not even in her real life.

  She was relieved that he did not pry. He never once asked her where she was from, or why she was traveling alone, or where she was going. He simply accepted that she was here and chatted like they were two strangers sharing the same bench because fate had arranged it that way.

  “I told my wife,” Garron said, flicking the reins lightly, “this is the job. Gone for days at a time. She made her peace with it years ago.”

  “Sounds like she misses you,” Riley said.

  Garron chuckled. “She does. I miss her too. Being apart keeps us from getting sick of each other.”

  Riley smiled. The warmth in his voice was soothing, and she found herself relaxing in a way she had not expected.

  They fell into silence. Not awkward, but comfortable. Riley leaned back against the wooden side and watched the trees pass by in slow, steady waves. The horses moved at an even pace, and the wheels hummed gently along the road.

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  Her thoughts drifted without her permission. She saw her old room. She saw her family’s home, smelled her mom’s fresh croissants and heard familiar city noises. Her throat tightened as she remembered her bed, her desk, her games, the soft light of her monitor in the dark. The dichotomy between the shelter of her old life and the uncertainty of this unpredictable world weighed heavily on her.

  Just as she closed her eyes, something sliced through the air.

  An arrow hissed past her face and struck a tree so close that bark exploded across her shoulder.

  The horses screamed and reared.

  Garron snapped upright. “Raiders!”

  The shout shook Riley back into her body. The caravan jolted violently as the horses bolted forward. Riley pitched sideways and her head struck the wooden frame with a dull thud. Garron seized the reins with one hand while reaching under the seat with the other.

  “What can I do?” Riley shouted, clinging to the side of the caravan as it rattled dangerously.

  Another arrow sliced overhead. Riley’s gaze snapped backward. Three riders on horseback were approaching fast. They wore mismatched armor and carried bows that looked well used.

  “Take the reins,” Garron yelled. “Do not pull them and do not drop them.”

  Before she could think, he shoved the leather reins into her hands.

  Garron pulled a massive crossbow out from beneath the seat. He cursed softly under his breath as he checked it. Riley understood why.

  “There are no bolts,” she shouted. “What good is that?”

  Garron smiled, almost excited. “Watch.”

  He braced the crossbow against his leg, pulled back the string with surprising strength, and locked it into place. He rose to a crouch, balancing himself as the caravan bounced violently over rocks and dips in the road.

  Another arrow whistled overhead. Garron ducked, then lifted the weapon above the caravan roof. Riley heard the click of the trigger and braced herself.

  A bolt of yellow energy shot from the weapon like a burst of lightning. It streaked through the air and hit the ground near the riders. The explosion that followed sent debris flying. The raiders’ horses panicked, stumbling sideways.

  “Hurry,” Riley directed, even though Garron was already reloading.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  “Their undoing,” he replied, already lifting the weapon again.

  Another arrow scraped along the caravan roof. Garron’s strike had slowed them only briefly. Garron steadied his stance, aimed, and fired again. This time the bolt struck a rider directly. The explosion against his armor was enormous, showering the area in fiery sparks. The raider fell from his horse with a scream.

  Garron let out a triumphant “Ha!”

  The remaining two raiders suddenly pulled their horses away. They turned sharply and galloped off in the opposite direction.

  Garron dropped back onto the seat in a motion more fluid than she expected from a man his age. He breathed heavily but smiled. He slid the crossbow under the seat with practiced efficiency and reached for the reins.

  “You did well,” he said, taking them over.

  Her whole body was trembling. Her breath came shallow and fast. She had never been shot at before. In her games sure, but not in any real, physical sense. She now knew the reality of danger.

  Garron eased the horses into a slower pace. First a canter, then a trot, then a steady walk. “We will need to stop and water them. They need to cool down after a sprint like that. Don’t worry. Raiders almost never come back once they take a loss like that.”

  They continued for a while until Garron pulled the caravan off the road toward a patch of shade near the river. He climbed down and opened a barrel at the rear of the caravan. With practiced rhythm, he filled a ladle and splashed water over the horses’ muzzles until they calmed.

  Riley climbed down as well, her legs shaky. She leaned against the caravan, letting the cool air wash over her.

  “So, lass, how much longer until you reach home?” Garron asked.

  “About six hours,” Riley replied. She lowered her voice. “This is a lot more dangerous than I thought.”

  Garron nodded with a sympathetic expression. “You’ll get used to it.”

  He gave the horses another rinse and secured their reins. “You were a big help. You can ride with me again anytime.”

  Riley smiled, her nerves still raw. “Funny you should say that,” she said, trying to force a cheerful tone. “I was hoping I could in the future.”

  Garron paused. A thoughtful look crossed his features. He seemed to weigh something, perhaps the risks of having a stranger ride with him or the idea of complicating a job he normally did alone. For a moment, Riley worried she had asked for too much.

  Then he smiled. “When were you thinking.”

  The question settled between them like an open door leading to something new. Two friends in one day? That was the last thing she had expected.

  Now, on the long road home, with one enemy dead behind them, she couldn’t help but think how many more lay ahead.