Chapter 91: Ambush

Hutson's driver was a temporary hire from the caravan—a slave named Ed.

A man in his early thirties, thin and wiry, but experienced behind the reins.

Hutson had no complaints about his driving. 

The journey had been smooth so far.

Ed was a man of few words.

 He never spoke unless spoken to, his focus entirely on guiding the horses forward. The brand on his face marked him unmistakably as a slave.

Hutson had paid ten silver coins to rent Ed's service for the three-month journey—though, of course, not a single copper would ever find its way into Ed's own pocket.

Slaves were considered property, not people. Property didn't own things.

As dusk fell, the caravan slowed, coming to a halt.

Wagons repositioned, forming a makeshift defensive barrier—Hutson's included.

The travelers lit seven or eight campfires, pots bubbling over the flames as dinner was prepared.