Kyra swore under her breath as she caught sight of the soldiers sweeping over the rise. She glanced around herself, her thoughts going first to her uncle but he could take care of himself, while she had only a dagger and useless Tyrell guards.
She reined her horse in, glad at least she had decided to ride today, and looked for her husband, but the train had already turned into chaos. Men and women screaming, arrows falling from archers hidden somewhere in the brush. A footsoldier ran at them, several fellows behind him. "Tyrell whores!"
There were people everywhere, she couldn't get the horse away, though she turned it- but not enough. The man's blade sliced into the flank, missing her leg by inches. Kyra aimed a kick for his teeth, but her horse was maddened from pain and reared up, twisting as it did so. Kyra screamed as a second bucking sent her flying from the saddle.
She landed hard and rolled to avoid the flashing hooves, coming up onto her knees, her dagger palmed in her hand. Her assailant was busy elsewhere, dealing with one of the Tyrell men-at-arms. She heard the dragons shrieking and shuddered. And men called the Boltons mad? The Dornish were out of their minds.
Guards had found her and Kyra let them pull her into the make-shift circle they had formed around the Tyrells.