Arrows whizzed past their heads as Xochitl and Alejandra gallopped their steeds. Escaping from the rebels unscathed looked increasingly unlikely. The looted gold in their satchels only slowed them.
“Look, the river!” Xochitl gasped. “We’re out of room!”
Alejandra yanked hard at the harness. Her mare neighed painfully as it abruptly stopped.
“What are you doing?!” Xochitl yelped backwards. “We’ll never make it!”
Alejandra lept from her animal and stared the insurgents dead in the eyes. Silently, she incanted a spell until mid-flight, the arrows flipped and impaled the men.
“You messed with the wrong witches,” she cackled.