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There is a loud bang and a great grey cloud billows from the muzzle of the musket. It startles the horse, but you swiftly control the animal and urge it forwards, out onto the road. In the confusion you make your escape northwards, hidden from the eyes of your pursuing enemy by the acrid cloud of gunpowder smoke.
Your ears are ringing but otherwise you and Prarg escape unharmed. The mare is strong and sure-footed, and despite the snow, you quickly cover more than eight miles before you encounter something on the road ahead that brings you immediately to a standstill.
