"Grab my damn hand!"
As Melard fell, the pounding of hooves beside him did not stop.
Explosive Wolf rode over the trip rope and reached out to him, trying to help Melard swing himself onto the horse.
But Melard was a pampered young noble, and a rather portly one at that. Even after grabbing his hand, he could not straighten up and was merely dragged a short distance along the ground.
"Let go! Let go!"
Seeing Melard cry out in pain, Explosive Wolf feared he might tear the fat man's arm off. With no other choice, he reined in his horse.
"Young master!"
Hus abandoned his attempts to maintain order and hurried over to help the tear-streaked Melard to his feet.
That cry also confirmed Melard's identity to the townspeople.
Old David, who had intended to leave early but had been stopped at the exit, tapped his pitchfork against the ground. His tone remained humble.
"My lord, since you already knew this town was about to face danger, why did you trap us all here?"
"I..."
Melard was just about to stammer out an excuse when Hus stepped in front of him and spoke first.
"Who do you think you're questioning?"
"I wasn't—"
Despite his resentment, the sense of hierarchy ingrained in Old David over the years left him without the confidence even to speak.
"I'm sorry, my lord. I only wanted to know why you stopped us from leaving..."
Hus snorted and quietly urged Melard to hurry up and mount.
But just as Melard was about to use Explosive Wolf's arm to haul himself onto the horse, its legs suddenly buckled, and it fell to the ground with a thud—
Perhaps he ought to urge the young master to exercise more and eat less.
A farm horse's back simply