One hour later, they were back on their horse, riding slowly down the winding path toward the massive walls now visible in the distance.
The fortifications of the Holyfield mines loomed through the trees, grey stone against grey sky, growing larger with every step.
Cassius held the reins while Isabelle sat before him, nestled comfortably against his chest. Her dress was back in place, though slightly rumpled.
As Cassius looked down, admiring the gentle jiggle of her bust with every step of the horse, his eyes caught a smear of thick, dried white liquid right across the curve of her upper chest.
"Ah, Isabelle." Cassius noted, pointing down. "You missed a spot. Looks like you spilled some white paint on your chest."
"Hm?" Isabelle blinked, looking down. "Oh, I thought I wiped everything off."
But then her eyes furrowed like something wasn't right. She reached down, dabbing her finger into the white smear.
