The landscape transformed as Blackthorn's cart ventured further from the bustling town of Astoria towards the village close to the mountains.
The crowded streets and lively chatter of townsfolk gradually gave way to a sparse, rural setting.
As they progressed, even the scattered farmhouses became few and far between.
The road wound past tranquil water bodies, where solitary fishermen cast their lines into the placid waters.
Blackthorn sat motionless in the cart, his face an impassive mask that betrayed none of the tumultuous thoughts swirling within his mind.
His eyes, sharp and observant, scanned the changing scenery, but his focus was on Matilda's possible hideout.
Where could she have gone?
As the sun dipped lower on the mountains, casting long shadows across the increasingly rugged terrain, Blackthorn's determination only grew stronger. Word couldn't get out that Matilda left him. What would that do to his reputation?
