Something Is Wrong With Gooseberry.
Night.
Borderlands, Critic-Ishire.
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As the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the rolling hills of Critic Arley's side, a lone figure, Theodore, could be seen galloping furiously along a narrow dirt road.
Mounted atop a majestic steed, Theodore's brow furrowed with worry, his grip on the reins tight and determined.
His tailored tweed suit, adorned with a crisp white shirt and polished leather boots, flapped in the wind as he urged the horse onward, his demeanor was tensed with a sense of urgency.
With each pounding hoofbeat, his mind raced with thoughts of self-recrimination and frustration.
His normally composed demeanor was shattered, replaced by a tumultuous mix of anxiety and anger at himself.
He cursed beneath his breath, the words lost to the rushing wind, as he replayed the events that had led him to this frantic dash.