Miracle upon miracle occurred in the following minutes.

Marek wasn’t thrown from the gelding’s back, Mags and Cinnabar managed to coax the stubborn mule into crossing, and Lydia didn’t drown. The last of these was a close thing. The poor girl turned a hoof midway through the river and slipped. Head splashing under, she bobbed up four feet downstream, braying like she’d been betrayed by the laws of nature themselves.

Best of all, the kobolds didn’t give chase. Apparently, the short-legged boars weren’t such good swimmers. More likely the kobolds themselves might get swept off, Mags concluded. Doesn’t mean they won’t find another place to cross.

Trudging up on the opposite bank, shivering and wet, the animals took a bit of encouragement to keep moving. Even Cinnabar seemed hesitant to obey.

“What’s wrong with them?” Mags asked. “The water wasn’t that cold. They should be fine to run.”

“I think that might have something to do with it,” Marek said. He pointed to the northwest in the direction of Middlebrook. Smoke rose in several places. Only then could Mags smell it for herself.

She leaned over her saddle and stroked Cinnabar behind her ear. “Everything’s gonna be okay, girl. We can’t stop here, though. Enemies behind and more that way. We’ll be safe if we get to the road.”

Mags wasn’t the type to think horses could understand common speech. She did believe them intelligent enough to glean tone and intention, however. She soothed the animal for a full minute before rising up in her saddle and taking the reins firmly. “Ha!” She dug her heels into Cinnabar’s flanks, harder than she’d done before.

The mare responded, driving up the hillside, and Lydia followed her example. Mags heard Marek cursing, but eventually the gelding caught up. A few minutes later, the group was moving at a slow canter across an open field.

The trail was no longer distinguishable, so Mags led them directly away from the kobold riders. In her experience, the creatures rarely gave up a hunt once they’d committed. One of her sergeants had told her kobolds were surprisingly docile most of the time. Their society survived on the fruits gathered from raiding, however, so every once in a while, they'd stoke their blood and wreak havoc on anyone unfortunate enough to be in their path.

As they rode, Mags kept an eye on the party as best she could. Marek and the gelding were keeping up easily; in fact, she was pretty sure her companion's horse could easily outstrip Cinnabar. Lydia, though... blast it, she's not doing well. Come on, girl, hold out a bit longer. A few more miles. The mule's limp was worsening. Nothing looked terribly amiss, but Mags suspected the turned hoof was sprained, or else the hoof itself had been injured. It was common for a mount to bruise the tender sole if they stepped on something sharp. Nothing to do about it now. All we have to do is keep ahead of the kobolds and we'll be fine.

Mags spurred Cinnabar again, increasing their pace slightly. Soon, they came to the culmination of the field. The trail could be seen again, veering left to the northwest. That would lead to Middlebrook. The sky in that direction was filled with dark smoke. In the other direction, a valley sloped down to the northeast. It wasn't a proper trail, but the terrain was comparable.

Mags reined Cinnabar in and called to Marek. "Toward Middlebrook and whatever's happening there? Or the Quartz Road? My vote is for the latter."

"Don't have to convince me. There has to be shelter in the city, but we’d ride up on the backside of the raiders. Rock and a hard place.” Marek nodded to the valley. "If we can reach the road, we'll be able to head in either direction, and we might even come across another party.”

A pair of warbling horns shattered any sense of peace they'd found since crossing the Layton. Mags stood in her stirrups and spotted no less than four boar mounts charging after the group. She didn't waste any time in guiding Cinnabar down the valley.

Mags drew three arrows from her quiver, laying one on the string and clutching the other two in her grip. Finding their pace again, Mags prayed Lydia could manage to keep up as she drove the group faster still. A slow gallop was fast enough to at least make the chase last a good deal longer. The mule carried the majority of their gear, so leaving her behind would be a disaster. And though Lydia was a proper pain in the ass, Mags had taken to the creature.

With the goal of keeping all alive, Mags worked out a decent plan. She waved at Marek and gestured her intention, then fell alongside the left flank of the pack mule, Marek taking the right. The valley was wide enough to accommodate them all, and she hoped the formation might prevent the raiders from flanking them. Besides, they had two bows. She was the better shot, but it made sense to allow both her and Marek line of sight.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

A few short minutes later, her theories were put to the test.

Three pairs of raiders drove at their heels while the fourth held back. Mags waited till they came within range. Glad my bow's better than yours, she thought as she took aim. Cinnabar hit a dip in the terrain the moment she loosed, and the arrow flew high. Mags had another on the string in the span of a single breath. She drew and released on the exhale. Her second shot struck a kobold in the shoulder. The creature hunched over but didn't fall off.

A glance at Marek eased one of her fears. He'd only taken five arrows from her quiver, and wisely was waiting till the enemy was close enough to spit at. Marek could hit a target at fifty paces, but only just, and doing so while riding made the task nearly impossible.

Mags drew again and waited for the right moment. Your aim is still high. Hit the damn pig, why don't you? That'll work as good or better. Shifting her tactics, Mags fired at the closest boar. Her shot fell true, and the arrow sank into the shoulder of the big mount. The beast squealed and stumbled. In a flurry of movement, it rolled, crushing both riders. Tough as an ox, the boar got up and limped around its fallen masters.

Before she could celebrate, the inevitable happened. Coming within fifty feet, the kobolds returned fire. The creatures seated to the front kept hold of the boar's reins while those in the back stood up precariously with bows drawn. Mags turned Cinnabar to the left, swerving in anticipation of the incoming arrow. Her efforts paid off—after a fashion. She grunted as a rib cracked near her right shoulder. Mags cursed her luck for being hit twice in one day, yet her injury was more painful than disabling. Had she not turned, the shot would have hit her square in the spine.

A startled whinny drew her attention. The gelding had taken an arrow in its haunch. Apparently, the kobolds had the same idea she’d gotten. Thankfully, the angle was off, and she doubted the arrow had hit the horse's joint.

As it was, Marek struggled to contain the horse. It sped off ahead of the group, panicked and galloping with a chaotic rhythm, its hind leg hitching with each stride.

Mags fired at the archer taking aim at Cinnabar, and though she missed, so did the kobold. Just a bit longer. We're almost at the end of the valley. We've got this! Mags took aim at another boar, hopeful she could repeat her previous success. Her arrow flew a second before the kobold archer’s. It pounded into the head of the boar, and she nearly shouted for joy. The pig only wavered slightly, however, and kept on its path. Even so, this threw off its rider's aim and spared Cinnabar from another grievous injury. The mare only flinched as the arrow cut a groove across her ribs.

A twang from the opposite side of the group told Mags that her mage was back in the fight. His shot went wide, but it served to slow the rider directly behind the gelding. Marek drew again and fired. This time, his aim was better. The kobold archer tumbled off the back of its mount and didn't rise again.

That left three boars, one without an archer, and two still trying their best to target Cinnabar and the gelding. The valley ended in only a half-mile. They'd ride into a cluster of trees that, if Mags guessed correctly, would quickly open up onto the Quartz Road. Behind them, the kobolds performed an admirable maneuver that impressed Mags as much as it frightened her. The solitary rider pulled left, leaving an opening for the rear boar to catch up. In moments, there would be two kobolds in range once more.

Mags nocked an arrow and prayed to Rhiley that her aim be true. She loosed, and the mount directly behind her squealed. Rather than falling, the creature lurched sideways, crashing into its fellow as it came up along the side. Both boars were thrown off course, however. The kobold archer behind Mags fired one last time, but she ducked beneath it. The arrow hissed over her head, and Mags whooped as their pursuers fell behind.

She faced the trees ahead and slowed Cinnabar. “This is gonna get messy,” she muttered under her breath. The trees grew far too close together to allow for easy passage. Thankfully, Cinnabar found a game trail, and seconds later they drove into the forest.

Trail or no, the going was rough. Mags winced as a branch scored a deep cut across her cheek. Her mount flinched when another snapped on the horse's shoulder. Another slammed into Mags' thigh, just above the knee, and she yelped in pain. Shattered wood jutted from her leg and blood saturated her trousers.

And then they were out. The shadows of the woods gave way to bright sunshine. Cinnabar's hooves clattered on hardpan, and Mags blinked in surprise to find they'd done it. "The Quartz Road!" she shouted. "Marek, this is it!"

The man smiled despite blood dripping into one eye. He'd fared nearly as badly as she in the trees, it seemed. Marek pointed to the west. "Look! A caravan! If we can reach them, we'll be safe!"

One more race, another short sprint until they'd be among fellow humans. As much as they'd tried to avoid strangers, in a kobold raid, anyone human was an ally. Mags turned Cinnabar, and they were off again. Less than a mile, and they'd make it. A circle of wagons surrounded by people—that would be their destination. Even at this distance, Mags could see the caravan was holding up well. They likely had hired guards among them, and with numbers on their side, the kobolds would be no match.

Lydia hobbled behind her. Marek took up the rear. Mags bit her lip as they trudged down the Quartz Road. As much pain as she was in, she couldn’t help but feel elated.

A blur to her left startled Mags. A bush opening up like a mouth and vomiting a boar bearing two kobolds. The sudden reappearance of the enemy nearly stopped Mags' heart. There was no time to react or take aim.

The boar crashed into Cinnabar's front legs, and the horse pitched forward. Then Mags was sailing through the air.