The wagon hit a rut in the road with a violence that sent a shockwave through the wooden frame, launching Tybalt a good six inches off the driver's bench. He landed with a high-pitched squeak, his knuckles turning bone-white as he gripped the leather reins like they were the only things tethering him to sanity.
"Slow down, Ty!" I shouted, grabbing the splintered side rail to steady myself as the cart lurched dangerously toward the ditch. "We lost the patrols miles ago. If you break a wheel out here, we're walking. And I don't think any of us have the shoes for a fifty-mile hike."
"I'm not slowing down until I can't smell sulfur anymore!" Tybalt shot back, his voice trembling and cracking mid-sentence. He whipped the reins again, urging the horses forward. "Did you see the size of that explosion? I thought volcanoes were supposed to be sleeping mountains! That one was definitely awake! It was angry! It was personally offended by our existence!"
