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8.
I used to think that riding a horse was a laborious and uncomfortable chore. But riding a horse while covered in open wounds all over was a million times worse. Every motion sent a wave of pain all through my raw and tender body. Every brushing of my legs against the leather saddle caused me to bite my lip in agony. The Prince had set a quicker pace up ahead, no doubt keeping an eye out for any wild, raging boars still roaming about the forest. The ones he’d slain were roasted over a fire while I was unconscious, and Maria told me they’d feasted on it. "Are you sure you don’t want to stop and rest?" Maria asked as I winced for the umpteenth time. "I’m fine," I muttered stubbornly, gritting my teeth as a vicious branch swiped at my exposed leg. "Careful there," lady Dimera said swe
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