Harrod took off at a sprint, his cloven hooves moving swiftly over the uneven terrain as he sprinted toward the woman who had been foolish enough to bring her child along with her on whatever foolish mission brought her here in the small hours of the morning.
The notion that he could do anything to capture her, or the child, was utter nonsense, and if Milo had grown up as one of the Vale's soldiers instead of spending his life as a hunter for his secluded village, he'd have understood that. The soldiers of the Horned Clan were fast over rough terrain, but half of that speed wasn't real.
The Horned Clan seemed fast in places like this because everyone else had to move so slowly or risk tripping, falling, and injuring themselves. But on the smooth, sandy shore of the riverbank where the woman was riding, her horse would have an absolute advantage in speed. Still, if he could get close enough, he might be able to knock her and the child from their saddle…
