After a while of driving back, they had reached the junction that diverted them to Liberty Road.
Liberty Road was nothing like the main highway. Sure, it led to the famous Liberty City, but you wouldn't compare it to the Grand Passage.
It was almost narrower, quieter, and the trees on both sides grew close enough to the road that the branches almost touched overhead in certain stretches, blocking out most of the sky and giving the whole journey the feeling of moving through a long tunnel that never quite ended.
The light that filtered through came in broken fragments, shifting across the caravan floor as they moved, and the sound of the wheels against the road was different here too, softer, like the road itself had been used less and had not fully hardened under years of heavy traffic.
The caravan rolled along at a steady pace, and up front the three messengers had gone quiet after agreeing on the route change, each of them settled into their own corner of focus.
