CRACK.
A stone the size of a fist struck the side of his head. Even from across the square, Vivian heard the impact. The man staggered, hand going to his temple. When he pulled it away, blood streaked his fingers.
The crowd was transforming. These healthy, happy people—the ones who'd looked so peaceful and prosperous moments ago—now had fury twisting their faces.
Hands that had been holding produce baskets now clutched rocks. Voices that had been cheerful turned savage.
"Mother..." Gwen's voice was tight, controlled, but Vivian heard the fear underneath. "We need to leave. Now."
But Vivian couldn't move. She watched, horrified, as the man ran. He clutched his bleeding head with one hand, the other grabbing his cloak to keep it from tangling his legs.
Stones pelted him from all sides—striking his back, his legs, his arms as he raised them to protect his face.
"This way!" someone yelled. "Don't let him escape!"
