The rain showed no mercy.
It pounded against the earth in heavy sheets, slashing across the landscape with howling winds that turned every tree into a shivering shadow. Vartha's heavy paws left splashes in the dirt trail as Luke finally steered her toward the bridge—the bridge they had been chasing for days.
The candle-lit silhouette grew clearer with every step. A stone arch, wide and stoic, cutting across the furious torrent of the Great Rift River. It stood like an ancient sentinel, unmoved by the storm… for now.
The moment the carriage reached the lip of the bridge, Luke tugged the reins to a stop.
"Hold," he murmured, mostly to himself, but Vartha obeyed all the same.
