Naz had traveled for quite some time now, her horse maintaining a steady pace that ate up distance without exhausting the animal. She'd left home with determination burning in her chest, driven by the certainty that her son's fevered warnings were more than simple nightmares.
The landscape had gradually shifted from familiar farming territory to wilder, less populated regions where the roads were poorly maintained and civilization felt distant.
But on her way through a particularly desolate stretch, she saw something unusual lying on the road ahead. At first glance it appeared to be a wounded woman collapsed at the roadside, her body positioned in a way that suggested she'd fallen and lacked the strength to rise. Naz's first instinct was concern—leaving someone injured on a deserted road was asking for them to die of exposure or be killed by predators.
