They're falling behind, in the dust of the road; still pursuing, but none of them have horses, and they can't match the carriage's pace.

Another few bolts are fired, one caroming off a wheel (but failing to do any damage) and one sticking into the back of the carriage, the others all missing.

"Keep going," says Kaya hoarsely, from where she's crouched on the footboard. "They won't stop, they'll kill you --"