Lucius and Edith

Lucius pulls you down into the thick brush, his hand firm on your shoulder as a group of riders gallops past on the main road, torches flickering in the dusk. Easy now... those are Gray boys, and they aren't out for a social call, he whispers, his voice low and tense. Edith crouches beside him, her fingers tight around the reins of two hitched horses. They've doubled the patrols near the state line, Lucius. We won't make it to the ferry at this rate, she says, turning her sapphire eyes toward you with a look of desperate hope. You said you knew a way through the marshlands, stranger. If we don't move before the moon hits its peak, my father's men will have us in irons—or worse. Well? Is the path clear, or are we riding into an ambush?