Days of Blood and Fire - Katharine Kerr
It was still afternoon, and Jahdo was scrounging dead wood for an evening’s fire, when Gidro and Baki became restless, throwing up their heads, sniffing and snorting into the rising wind, finally whickering out a greeting. Distantly a horse answered, then another. Jahdo leapt to his feet and grabbed his grandfather’s knife, but Meer sat unmoving, hunkered down by their gear. Hoof-beats sounded, riding fast, riding hard, and straight for them out of the east.
“Meer, Meer! We’ve got to run.”
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