The carriage kept moving forward along the road, and I found my eyes drifting down to the ground beside us. Long streaks of darkened mud stretched across the path, uneven and smeared in a way that immediately told me what I was looking at. It was blood, dragged across the road in a continuous trail, and it could only belong to those two elves.
A few seconds later, the city entrance came into full view as the road sloped upward toward the gates. I lifted my head and spotted the two guards ahead, waiting near the entrance for the gates to open. Their horses stood still, but the elves were still tied behind them. They were not moving anymore. Their bodies were limp, twisted from being dragged for so long, their skin torn and dirt-streaked, and there was no sign of life left in them.
"Damn…" I muttered. "Poor people."
The carriage shifted slightly to the left as it climbed the slope and then came to a stop near the entrance.
"That's it," the coachman said. "Hop off, kids."
