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Francis (Faramir) Fletcher (
2016-10-31 10:08 pm (UTC)
The weather is still fine enough when Francis reaches the edge of the woods, and he sees no reason to worry even when the rain begins to fall, assuming it's a brief squall at worst. And if it were only the rain, he would make Lethevale town by nightfall.
It's not the rain, but the lightning, that does for him. It strikes so close he can smell it, and the sound is deafening. Almost as deafening is his horse's scream, and the crash of the blasted fir tree that falls into the road a few feet ahead.
The horse rears, and Francis cries out as, thrown from the saddle, he lands hard in the mud, sharp pain shooting through his arm. Still, even half-stunned from the fall, his reflexes are sharp, and he's on his feet again in a moment, chasing after his horse as it bolts.
Wonder of wonders, he catches it - finds it shying and whinnying unhappily in a little clearing. But by that time, they're far from the road, and, he fears, quite lost.
For the next several hours, he's wandering in the worsening weather, cold and wet, leading his now-limping horse through the thick woodland. When he sees a light, or hears a voice above the chaos of the storm, he'll head for it at once, praying for a fellow-traveller who might lead him back to the road.
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