Thundering hooves raced against the dirt road as the carriage tore through the quiet outskirts of the village.
Isabel, who was gripping the reins like her life depended on it, looked like a woman possessed by utter grief. Her hair was slightly messy, and her face was a mask of sheer, unadulterated distress. Tears and all.
Villagers tending to their gardens or mending fences stopped and stared at the commotion, the peaceful afternoon shattered by the huffing of horses. The carriage swerved into the central square, dust billowing in a cloud as Isabel hauled on the reins, bringing the horses to a desperate stop.
Not waiting for the dust to settle, Isabel leaped from the driver's seat onto the ground and began to scream.
"Help! Please, someone help us! Is there a healer?! Please!"
"... What's going on?"
"... What in the blazes?"
The call for help acted like a magnet.
