Mia kicked Harper again, terror spurring her on. She looked neither left nor right, but continued forward, looking not for the path now, but for safety.
Ahead, in the distance, the red seemed to fade. She had to get there. Had to reach beyond the place where these flowers fell like feathersoft razors.
The first few to hit her skin, she dismissed easily, but the streaks could only be ignored for so long. Blood. She was sure of it, or at least sure enough to let horror take hold and make her push Harper harder than she ever had before.
Even the previous day's sprint could not match the effort of the moment. Standing slightly in the stirrups, Mia urged the horse into the fastest possible pace.
Harper was not the quickest animal amongst them. The others could keep up, she was sure… well, except for Denholm's former horse, who she didn't know very well. She glanced over at Ford, who was thankfully still beside her.
