Running feat

A figure garbed in black sped down the street the carriage and its escorts
had taken a scant hour earlier. There was no moon, but the black-garbed
figure was so beautiful he virtually gave off a light of his own. With the
speed with which he galloped, he could gobble up that one hour lead in less
than twenty minutes if all went smoothly. Just as he was hitting the heart of
the forest, however, he stopped sharply.

Though there were clouds, the darkness wasn’t complete. In D’s eyes, it
was just like midday. About thirty feet ahead of where D halted his horse, a
gigantic tree branch hung over the road, and one part of it in particular
protruded sharply. Beneath that protrusion hung a long, thin shadow. D
alone saw it for what it truly was. One of the trio of escorts—Benge.

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