I was trying to figure out how to make a mud storm interesting, and then I remembered that this is a fantasy series. Duh. Make it sapient and malevolent!
The Rangers needed four hours to get twenty wagons and a hundred twenty, hundred thirty people somewhere safely out of the way. They got three. Mike figured they were all lucky that it wasn’t two.
Nobody could get this far from the Old Muddy by being dumb, so most of the wagons didn’t need to be told why the rain suddenly stopped and there was a breeze to the east. They knew damned well what that meant: a mud storm was forming, and they’d be well advised to not stick around for it to come by and take a slap at them. It’d happened before, and the last time the caravan had only lost a few wagons and horses — but the caravan didn’t really have many of either to spare.
Pretty soon the wagons were all creaking their way up the paths, looking for ground broken enough to keep them from getting washed away. Mike sent half the troop forward to scout out likely sheltering spots; the others he stayed with and kept close, in case they’d need to load up their mounts and remounts and move right quickly. Mud storms were mean, but they were slow, and couldn’t steer themselves worth a damn.
Nita was one of the scouts; when she rode up she looked even greener than usual. It took Mike a second to remember that meant she was agitated, not about to throw up. “Captain!” she said a little loudly, over the strengthening wind. “The lieutenant’s compliments, and he says that the main trail is fucked to hell and gone because a god-damned pine tree slid off the bank above it and shoved its ass right up the road’s.”
Mike shook his head. “Was that the clean version, Corporal?”
“Yes, sir. I left out the parts about the road’s mother.”
“Good job, Corporal,” Mike said. “I like a little couth in my officers.” It’s for damned sure that’s all Jimmy’s got to spare. “No way to get through it?”
“Not with the wagons. There’s a trail to the west that goes the same kind of way, but it’s longer and could wash out.” Nita paused. “That tree isn’t moving, sir. And it’s a real monster of one, too. Not the kind that moves and eats people, I mean. It’s just real huge.”