CH1: The Rider and The Drunk
Stepping into the woods, Amelia picked up the thick smell of horse and fresh mud. It hadn't rained in weeks and she hadn't heard the hooves galloping across the moss as she dreamed she would hear when she moved to the small remote home on the French country side. Taking her normal path Amelia made her way to the creek, breathing in the fresh scent, she heard the babbling brook up close and was eager to sit beside it. She's been enjoying the quiet, unlike her normal hustle and bustle of city life in DC. The lack of sirens and shouts has taken time to get use to, spending many a glorious night sitting on the porch of the cabin, watching the shadows of the night and waiting for the sun to rise.
Amelia smiled widely when she dipped her hands into the cool water. Placing the water on her face and neck, she listened to the sounds around her; the brook lulled her into a trance, soothing her racing mind for a few precious moments. It was only when the muscled legs of a dark mare raced past her did she look up, losing her balance and falling into the creek.
Screaming the most of the English obscenities she knew, Amelia switch to French with an ease she had barely mastered. It was enough to get his attention as she tore the now soaked sweatshirt from her body. She felt the beginnings of a bruise and glared at the rider mounted on the beautiful horse. "You have quite the mouth on you, lad. I would advise you to apologize quickly before I am forced to take swift action." The man said in a strange mixed accent that made the hair on her arms stand up. "Watch it buddy! You knocked me over, I'm not gonna apologize for a damn thing til you get off that horse and say your own freaking apology." Amelia snapped through clenched teeth. She had always been the hothead of the group, always willing to stick her neck into a fight for justice and honor of others. It was rare that she put any of that energy towards herself but since her few months in the cabin she had seen the slight error in her ways.
There was a long pause and as the man considered it, he seemed to be watching her intently. "Don't make me pull you off." She warned. The man chuckled, shrugging lightly sliding gracefully off the horse. Without the glare of the summer sun, Amelia noticed that he looked like something out of an old swashbuckler movie. His blonde hair hung around his face in a rough and shaggy way, all the while being silky and touchable. He wore a grey flowing shirt with wide sleeves that puffed at his wrist. The shirt was tucked into a soft looking fabric and finished with boots that looked like they belonged in a museum. His eyes seemed to hold wisdom and annoyance at the same time, glaring lightly with laughter splayed across his face. The fact that he took amusement in her anger only fueled the fire and it took all her energy not to attempt to break his jaw that was covered in the same sunbrushed light brown. "I'm waiting!" she said as dignified as she could. Her voice came out husky and low, dripping with anger. "I apologize for you inability to move out of the way of a galloping horse and for the lack of manners you father never saw fit to teach you." He said coolly.
The mention of Amelia's father who had been killed 10 years before after being in the grocery store during a robbery, caused her to grind her teeth to keep from crying. "And I'm sorry that a man who obviously spends more time in an asylum than in the sun has ruined such a glorious day for me." Amelia snapped walking away towards the cabin just outside the wood's edge but the clearing she met instead of her dark wood porch had her turning around in search of a road or landmark. Pulling out her cell phone she saw that it had died along with her pager. "Well isn't this just fine and dandy." She hissed to the grounds as she set off around the forest hoping to find someone on the way. After a few hours of walking she found her way into a rustic but busy village. She suddenly felt bad for poking fun at the rider's attire. Apparently she lived near a colony of thespians or re-enacters and the man must have been late for something and that explained his snippy attitude. Instantly she felt calm and figured she should enjoy her find before finding her way back home.
Finding a bar Amelia walked in and the strong smell of alcohol and body odor made her gag reflexes scream for release. Holding on to her composure and breakfast she walked to the counter and tried to get the barkeeps attention. "Hey! Sir! Oi!" getting no acknowledgement, Amelia set her sights on finding a seat. Trying to avoid a woman carrying mugs of what she assumed was ale, she backed away, having to sidestep to avoid a man leering at a woman who's dress barely held in her full breasts. Looking down at her chest which was mediocre at best and hidden beneath the baggy long-sleeve grey t-shirt that survived the impromptu creek swim, she sidestepped again. In her sidestep she collided with the belly of a man who spewed his drink over her head, drenching her with alcohol and spittle. "Oh for the love of-" she started, glaring up at the man who laughed heartily as if he had just told a joke. The two women around him giggled until Amelia kicked the man hard in the shin. "Oi, watch it!" she yelled.
"Don't mistake me for a drunk me boy, It would do well to remember who you have just assaulted if I were you." He said with a pompous voice that was loud and meant to attract a crowd. That was the second time someone had mistaken her for a man. This gender confusion was actually interesting to her. He reminded her of her boss, a grey grubbing arrogant man who used others to get ahead. "Sir, If you were me I would make it my duty to stay inside and not inflict my face upon others especially these fine ladies who have come to the misfortune of being in your company. By chance, did you loose a bet…" she said with a chuckle to the red haired woman. "Porthos, I think the little one has just challenged you." said another man who walked up with a sly inebriated smile. If this man called Porthos was round, not fat but in a jolly way big, than this boy was very slender. He looked at least 10 yeas behind the first man, his hair a dark chestnut compared to Porthos' black. The second man had no mustache or beard like Porthos as seemed to hold himself with less respect and more humanity. "You damn right I challenge you, you fat baboon!" Amelia spat out moving her baseball cap to face backwards.
The two men whispered and looked as if they were weighing the options, all the while looking at their surroundings. It seems that this was a regular occurrence, as the men and women around them did not take much attention. The one name Porthos seemed to ring small bells in her mind but the anger of having alcohol spit on her wouldn't allow another topic to take affect. "We will have a duel!" Porthos announced turning to the others directly around him. "With what!" Amelia quickly asked. She saw that both men had swords and probably had to practice a great deal to be able to keep them. "A drinking duel." The younger man clarified, smiling at her horrified face. She growled out a few curses and sat at the table. She smiled inwardly but held the fear on her face. She played games like this when she was in high school and later in college. Though it had been a few months since her last bout with tequila she was sure her tolerance would have her winning in no time, considering that Porthos had a head start already.
The mugs placed in front of them smelled of the same thick brew that still dripped behind her ears and made her back sticky and slick at the same time. The first sip made her gag slightly at the harsh taste but she told herself it was like crude beer and persevered on. Four mugs later and Porthos was jollier but still determined. The serious look was in his eyes as he boasted of the impending win on his part. "You see lad, you will not beat me for I am Porthos! D'Artagnan here has seen my ability to consume and I don't believe I will be bested today by a young one such as you." He said with slurred words. For a drunk he was very articulate. "So when I win, what do I get?" She asked after downing her 7th mug. She felt the gurgle of a full stomach coming and the buzz from the ale. Amelia was getting loopy and it might slip that she was not a man and then someone might try to take advantage of her.
"When you win? Well if you will received my respect and the knowledge that you are respected by the great Porthos." He said with lazy and sloppy hand gestures. "The biggest windbag this side of Europe…" Amelia mumbled into her mug with a chuckle. A few hours later, she had succeeded in staying conscious longer than Porthos and smiled gallantly at D'Artagnan, but the moment was short lived as she soon fell victim to the ale and slipped into a drunken sleep.