The grass caught fire, and the flames began to spread.
“Blow on it,” Marcellious whispered.
“I know what to do,” I snapped. I cupped my hands and blew.
The flames grew taller until the hay was blazing.
One of the soldiers yelled, “Hey! Look!” but he was cut off by raucous laughter.
“Go hide,” I hissed at Marcellious. “Pick a couple horses and wait for me near that tree.”
I pointed toward what looked like a maple tree.
“On it,” Marcellious said. He hurried toward the horses.
“Fire!” I shouted. “Fire!”
I raced toward another wagon and ducked behind it.
Soldiers sprinted toward the wagon.
I struck the flint lighter near another hay-filled wagon until it caught fire, then rushed toward a third wagon.
The soldiers all scurried about, trying to put out the flames.
I rushed toward the tree where I’d directed Marcellious.
“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go,” Marcellious cried from his position on one of the horses. He held the reins of another.
I vaulted onto the horse’s back, and we both took off in the direction opposite the fires.
Shouts rang out from behind us, followed by the distant pounding of hooves. The soldiers were after us, but hopefully, we had enough of a head start to lose them.
Night fell, blanketing the land, but we rode on, trusting our surefooted steed’s instincts.
We rode for hours until the light began to force its way into the sky.
Our exhausted horses had slowed to a walk. To my right came the sound of running water.
“Now what?” Marcellious said.
“I don’t know. My only plan was to escape.”
“Good plan.”
“We’re not stuck in a cellar with a dead man anymore, are we?” I said. “Let’s let the horses have some water. I could use some, too. Then we can come up with our next move.”
Marcellious swayed on top of the horse.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“Not really,” he croaked. “I don’t feel well. I think I need to rest. My shoulder is killing me.”
“Give me your reins.” I trotted my horse next to Marcellious and held out my hand.
“What? No. I’m fine.”
“You look a breath away from death. Hand me your reins.”
