By the time we dragged him out of the forest, the storm had already weakened, only droplets left. The rain left a lot of undesirables behind… Except for maybe if you're a farmer.
Mud clinging to our boots, air thick enough to chew, yet the guy we caught didn't say a word.
Blindfolded, wrists bound, soaked to the bone. He stumbled when we pushed him onto the carriage bench across from me, the leather creaking under his weight.
Hailie had logged off first, saying her time was up for the night. I told her I'd skip dinner, that I'd make sure this man got to where he needed to be.
She gave me one of those worried looks as her body began to fade to a logout with a nod.
It was quiet in the carriage except for the clatter of hooves and the driver cursing at puddles.
The man didn't struggle or even try to log out. He just sat there, breathing shallowly through the wet cloth that clung to his face. I kept my scythe propped upright between my knees, just in case.
