At first, I could still make out the carriage wheels and the horse prints if I crouched low enough and squinted hard, but the storm got worse fast. The road turned into a muddy mess, and every fresh drop of rain blurred the grooves we had been relying on. The S-shaped horseshoe Brianna had mentioned was the only reason we were still on the right path for as long as we were. Every time I spotted that curved imprint, I knew we were still chasing the same horse.
Then even that disappeared.
The mud became too soft, the rain too heavy, and the forest floor started swallowing every mark before I could read it. I stopped in the middle of the road, let out a long breath, and wiped water off my face with the back of my hand.
"This is useless," Ken muttered beside me.
"Yeah," I said. "We're done following tracks."
He frowned. "Then what now?"
