The road finally gave way. Not all at once—but in pieces, in failures layered atop one another until there was nothing left to hold. An elder went down hard near the second cart, his knee buckling as an enemy blade clipped the back of his leg. He hit the dirt with a grunt, barely rolling aside before a follow-up strike buried itself where his chest had been. Someone dragged him back by the shoulders, boots skidding, breath coming out in sharp, panicked bursts.
Another box split open under a downward strike. The sound was wrong—too hollow, too final. Dried herbs scattered across the road like dead leaves, crushed under boots before anyone could react.
Fall back—just a step—!
The command dissolved before it finished. There was nowhere to fall back to. Trees pressed close on both sides now, the narrow road choked with bodies, broken wood, and spilled supplies. The carts, once a centre to rally around, had become anchors dragging everything down.
