The clop of hooves to his rear brought panic rising in him. He turned, every muscle tense, like a deer sensing danger, ready to disappear into the woods at a moment’s notice. Except there weren’t any woods to speak of. Even Lostwood’s massive tangle couldn’t reach this far south. If it came down to it, he could leap in the water and let the river whisk him away.

He squinted against the sunlight as a quartet of good-looking steeds pulling a covered wagon trotted in his general direction. Ludo threw himself into the tall grass that lined the river’s shore, uncertain whether he’d been spotted by the team’s driver, who sat alone on a bench attached to the front of the wagon.

Slowly, the sound of horses’ hooves grew louder.

And then stopped. The horses whinnied and whined impatiently. “Good boys,” a man’s voice said soothingly. “You earned your reward.”

Heart pounding, Ludo adjusted his eye patch and parted a few strands of brittle, yellow grass to peer through. He immediately let his cover fall back when he saw how close—how shockingly close—the wagon had stopped from him. Almost close enough to reach out and touch one of its iron wheels.

Out of the corner of his eye he’d spotted the driver, who wore thick riding clothes, feeding the horses something from his hand. Had he been seen?

“Da!” a voice called out. “Are we there yet? Have we reached Hern?”

The voice sounded young, and decidedly girlish.

“Not yet, my darling. Hafta ford Lostriver first.”

Ludo couldn’t hold back the swell of pride at having been right about the identity of the river blocking his way forward. At the same time, he wondered how the man planned to cross with a team of horses and a large wagon.

“Can I help pull us across?” the man’s daughter asked, excitement in each word.

“Of course. I don’t think I could manage it without you.”

“Stop joking, Da.”

“I’m serious. I’d prolly get stuck halfway across.”

“Da!” the girl squealed.

Ludo risked another quick peek, this time spying a young woman perhaps fifteen or sixteen name days old, climbing through a flap in the wagon’s cover and onto the driver’s seat. Her dusty white dress swirled as she hopped to the ground and then proceeded to play-punch her father, who pretended to be driven back on his heels. “Gosh, you’re even stronger than you look!” he said, using his hands like a shield to defend himself. The ‘battle’ ended in a hug, the man spinning his daughter around in a circle.

For some reason, watching the tender scene made Ludo sad.

The father put the young woman down and said, “Right. We best find that hidden raft before the day gets away from us. We need to be on the eastern bank by nightfall.”

“I’ll help!” the girl said eagerly.