Previous: Finding Him
The poor horses were sad. Mélanie couldn’t really blame them.
She patted the horse on the nose, reassuring it, and it turned back to the road before the two buffoons noticed what it was doing. She had just a moment to time this right. The horse seemed to stumble, tripping on thin air, slowing the wagon down to a near-stop.
Mélanie mentally promised the horse all the apples she could find for it, and sugar cubes, and the best currying of its life, all as she hopped up into the wagon. There was Jasper - drugged, from the looks of it, his eyes open but not tracking - well, not that she could tell if he was tracking her, anyway; she was still invisible - his hands tied behind his back, a heavy canvas gag over his mouth, his feet bound.
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