Want to thank my Beta Spacecowboy for everything she did to make this flow better.
It was a cool autumn day on the road to Paris. Athos heard the foliage rustling in the wind. The musky scent of the crushed leaves reminded him of happier times riding with his father surveying their lands. The rust and burgundy leaves carpeted the road muffling the sound of the horse's hooves. Athos enjoyed the tranquility and his traveling companions, but sometimes they could be a handful. Aramis never stopped talking, regaling his friends with one outrageous story after another. Athos turned in his saddle at Porthos' boisterous laugh.
"Don't laugh." Aramis said. "It's true."
"Only you can say the wrong women's name in bed and talk your way out of it," d'Artagnan said, shaking his head.
Aramis smiled. "It's a gift."
"It will be your death," Athos scoffed.
"Maybe," Aramis agreed. "But there's no finer way to go."
"Oh, I don't know, old age would be nice," added the youngest, d'Artagnan.
Athos smirked when Aramis put his hand to his chin thinking. The marksman would be lucky to make it to old age. The thought sent shiver down his spine.
"Too boring," Aramis decided. "I need more excitement."
The words were barely uttered when two shots rang out. Aramis clutched his right shoulder, his guttural scream causing Athos to cringe. Everything seemed to move in slow motion after that as he watched Porthos grab Aramis' left arm to keep him in the saddle. Athos spurred his horse to a gallop, glancing back to make sure the others were following. The pain on Aramis face and Porthos pinched lips gripped Athos with worry. He looked to d'Artagnan and saw his eyes wide in fear, but Athos had no time to console as they dashed head long down the road.
Athos knew if they were injured or killed they could never deliver the King's letters, or worse, they could fall into the wrong hands, which would be disastrous. As their unspoken leader, it was his responsibility to make sure they were successful in their mission, so he scanned the road left and right for a place to make a stand but their surroundings offered little cover.
"There's too many of them," d'Artagnan cried. "We can't out run them."
Athos looked back to see numerous men chasing them. He knew d'Artagnan's prediction was correct, there was still twenty miles between them and Paris and they were closing fast. The horses could never keep this break neck pace all the way to the city. He also knew Aramis would never make it, which scared him more than anything. If one of them were lost, he didn't know how the rest would go on. Athos steeled himself and got his wayward emotions under control as he searched for a place to make a stand.
"Athos!" Aramis called in a pained voice.
Athos dropped back to run his horse alongside Aramis. He clenched his jaw to stop it from dropping open and exposing his concern when he saw a large red stain coating Aramis' jacket. He looked across to Porthos and saw his own concerns reflected in his features, and they knew they'd have to stop soon or Aramis would bleed to death.
The marksman's knuckles where white as he gripped the pommel to stay mounted. His lips were moving but barely a sound escaped them.
"What is it?" Athos asked.
"Up ahead on the left is a path," Aramis panted.
Athos reluctantly moved back into the lead. As they came around the bend he spotted the trail. It was narrow, and wouldn't afford much room for them to maneuver. He pulled on the reins to slow his mount, glancing back as a painful groan emanated from the marksman.
Porthos grabbed Aramis just as he was about to fall, making Athos stomach clench as the color drained from Aramis' face. Even though Aramis was in considerable pain, Athos was reluctant to commit to the single file trail.
"Trust me," Aramis gasped.
That single plea was all it took, he trusted Aramis.
"Porthos, take Aramis," Athos instructed. "D'Artagnan and I will hold them here to give you a head start."
"Right," Porthos agreed, grabbing the reins of Aramis' horse. "Don't get killed."
Athos watched Porthos head up the trail. He knew he was right sending them ahead but his heart ached for his injured friend. He glanced toward d'Artagnan. The youngest' lips were pressed into a thin line betraying his worry as he also watched their friends disappear.
The Comte tapped him on the knee to get his attention. "Are you ready?" he asked.
"We won't be able to stop them," d'Artagnan fretted.
"No," Athos agreed, moving his horse into the woods. "But hopefully we can discourage them enough to give Porthos time."
Athos saw d'Artagnan square his shoulders and nod. Athos smiled confidently and motioned the Gascon into the trees on the other side of the trail. Athos pushed his mount to the opposite side and glanced at d'Artagnan. D'Artagnan loaded his pistols in preparation. Athos saw him take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. When he looked up Athos nodded. Now all they had to do was wait.