Elara felt herself being tossed about, jolts and rough pushes throwing her small frame against something hard and unyielding.
Each slam against the wooden wall of the carriage sent a sting of pain radiating down her back, forcing a low groan past her lips. The sharp discomfort finally dragged her out of the fog of unconsciousness.
Her lashes fluttered, eyes squinting against the harsh stream of daylight pouring in through the narrow cracks of the carriage.
She blinked several times, trying to adjust, and slowly her surroundings began to take shape.
The rhythmic creak of wheels grinding against dirt and the occasional jolt told her everything she needed to know.
She was inside a carriage.
And it was moving fast.
