Authors note: Inspired be a 10km trail run I did a few weeks ago. I hate trail running.

Run Away

Chapter One.

Aramis woke with a start. He winced as he inadvertently moved his leg. His sprained knee letting itself be known. It was dawn. They were supposed to have broken camp and been gone before first light.

Why had the others not woken him up?

He looked about him and the question was answered by the total lack of any sign of his friends. The camp was deserted. There was no sign of Athos, Porthos or d'Artagnan. The horses were gone, and their gear had disappeared as well. He glanced to his side and realised that he was also missing his boots having taken them off the night before when he dealt with his injury.

Only he was there. Alone.

He shifted slightly to look around, the fire was smouldering having burnt itself out with no one to continue to feed it dry wood.

Aramis took stock of his situation. He was injured, unable to walk, at least not without causing himself a lot of pain and he was alone in the woods. His friends would not have abandoned him, so they must have been taken during the night. Why had he been left behind?

Because of his injury. It struck Aramis as odd that whoever had taken his friends and not deemed him worthy of the same attention had left him alive. Surely it would have made more sense to kill him than leave him behind, even injured. Whoever had taken the others had not searched him as he still had his guns and sword which were tucked under his blanket. Only his boots were missing.

Realising that staying where he was would not help anyone, he attempted to stand. The pain in his knee radiated out through his leg, it was excruciating. Even the effort of pulling himself into a sitting position was not easy. He bent his good right leg and prepared to haul himself up. He cried out in pain as he did so, breathing heavily and sweating with the struggle.

He managed it, standing with most of his weight on his right left he looked about. He did not want to take a step unless it was in the right direction. He knew the pain would be overbearing so he did not want to waste energy walking, or most likely stumbling in the wrong direction.

The ground was churned up in a few places. He had been asleep before the other the previous night so he did not know who had slept where. He suspected Porthos would have chosen to sleep next to him as he had gone into a full protective brother mode after he had been injured. The ground a few feet to the left of his current position showed signs of a struggle, a few footprints were evident. Aramis could pick out the print of the musketeer's boots. He imagined Porthos giving whoever had taken them a hard time.

The direction the reluctant footprints went was echoed by the disturbance on the ground to Aramis' right.

That was the direction he would go in. Although how far he would get, he did not know.

MMMM

The day before…

Porthos thought that the others might have returned at a more sedate pace than they were. A recce on a group of men who had been causing issues in the area should not have resulted in the sight that met his gaze.

Athos, d'Artagnan and Aramis were charging across the open land between the wooded area and the river. Aramis was in the lead wildly gesticulating at Porthos to be ready to destroy their makeshift bridge.

The river, although relatively narrow was fast flowing and deep in this area. They had used an old cart to create a bridge earlier in the day. D'Artagnan had suggested the idea in case they had to make a hasty retreat and prevent anyone following them. Porthos was glad of the idea as he watched his fellow musketeers tearing towards him. He could hear the baying call of hounds coming from the woods. They were clearly running with good reason.

They were within a couple of hundred meters of the river when Aramis stumbled and cried out in pain. Before he had moved another step, Athos had grabbed his left arm and slung it over his shoulder to help his obviously injured friend. Without any direction d'Artagnan grabbed Aramis' other arm and copied Athos' move. Although now slower the three men still moved with pace. Porthos made sure he was ready to push the cart into the river as soon as his fellow musketeers were across.

As they neared Porthos could see Aramis was in obvious pain, he was being forced to continue to use his left leg despite whatever injury he had picked up. He had paled and was gasping for breath. They were all breathing heavily from the run. D'Artagnan let go of Aramis as they reached the cart and Athos bundled Aramis across and without stopping continued forward away from the river and to what they hoped would be the safety of the woods on their side.

As d'Artagnan reached Porthos he turned to help heave the cart into the river, due to its age and the rot that riddled it, the rickety cart broke apart and floated uselessly away. The dogs broke the cover of the opposite woods as both Porthos and d'Artagnan ran for cover. The men that followed fired guns after them, they were too far away by then to be an issue. But the two running musketeers did not want to stay out in the open.

As he pushed his way into the woods Porthos found Athos propping himself up against a tree, shoulders heaving as he gulped in air. Aramis appeared to have remained where Athos must have dropped him. He was lying on his back weakly reaching for his left knee, also panting hard, his face screwed up in pain.

Between gasped breaths d'Artagnan managed to say, 'it was the dogs…they must have known we were there…they were restless and…one of the men came to see…he spotted us.'

Porthos who had not been running for as long as the others had recovered sufficiently to check on Aramis. He knelt next to his friend and felt along his left leg, which was obviously where he was injured. When Aramis gasped in pain as Porthos reached the man's knee he knew he had located the injury.

'Just sprained…' Aramis managed to gasp.

'You sure?'

'Yes, won't be able to bear much weight on it for a couple of days…just need to try to keep the swelling down.'

Porthos nodded, then turned to Athos, 'that was very impressive, back there, you two hardly missed a beat, grabbing him,' he indicated Aramis, 'it's like you can read each other's minds.'

Athos looked across at d'Artagnan who grinned back, 'instinct?' the young man suggested.

'I'm grateful, whatever it was,' said Aramis as he tried to push himself up into a sitting position, only succeeding when Porthos helped him.

Athos had regained control of his breathing and was looking back through the trees. There was no sign of them being followed, which was what they had expected. He turned to the others.

'I think we can afford a few hours before we set off back to Paris. The next bridge is several hours ride away. It will be the early hours of tomorrow before they can reach us,' he looked down at Aramis, 'will you be able to ride by then?'

Aramis nodded.

'Good let's get back to the camp then,' said Porthos as he grabbed Aramis around the shoulders to help him up.

Aramis could not stop the whimper of pain that escaped as he was brought to his feet. Porthos paused for a moment to allow Aramis to again catch his breath only starting forward when his friend nodded. D'Artagnan retook his place on Aramis' right as Athos led the way back to their camp.

MMMM

Porthos lowered Aramis to the ground slowly. It was clear the man was in a lot of pain. He tried to reach down to his boots, realising he was going to need help he looked up at Porthos with pleading eyes.

Porthos chuckled despite the situation, 'how can I resist…' he shrugged his shoulders and knelt beside his friend and pulled off his boots.

Aramis managed a pained smile before sucking in a breath as the action of having his left boot pulled off aggravated his injury. Porthos paused before carrying on, waiting for Aramis to open his eyes again, only taking the boot off completely when Aramis nodded that he was prepared.

Once free of his boots Aramis managed to pull his trouser leg up far enough to reveal the already swollen knee.

'That does look painful,' stated Porthos looking at Aramis who was quite pale. He looked on the verge of passing out. Porthos grabbed his shoulder to help refocus him, 'hey, you stayin' with me or am I going to tend to your injury?'

'I'll do it, just need water and cloths…just need to keep it cool,' Aramis replied.

Porthos was not convinced, but collected what his injured friend needed and sat down beside him ready to help if needed.

MMMM

Athos watched as Porthos helped Aramis deal with his sprained knee. Although not a severe injury it could have proven costly if they had not been as close to escape as they were when Aramis had stumbled.

The dogs chasing them were clearly trained hunters and had been determined in tracking them down. Athos did not want to be around when the men and their hounds reached them. He was sure they would be trying to reach them. The men would have seen their Musketeer uniforms and would want them neutralised.

They had been sent here to investigate a spate of disappearances. For the last fortnight reports had been received in Paris of a group of men terrorising the area with dogs. Some people had disappeared, others reported being chased by the dogs and the men. Treville had dispatched the four to investigate. The plan now was to return to Paris and collect reinforcements to take out the group of men.

He went back to feeding the fire, he knew they would need the warmth, particularly Aramis, as the nights were getting colder. Aramis would tell them he was fine, but Athos knew from experience, that when injured and in pain, the cold seemed to be that much colder.

MMMM

After Porthos had insisted Aramis eat he had helped the injured man to lie down. Aramis had fallen asleep quickly, Porthos staying nearby.

D'Artagnan watched as Porthos fell asleep, he smiled remembering Porthos acting like a protective mother hen around his friend earlier. Athos had taken a spot to the right of Aramis and Porthos. When D'Artagnan finished his watch, he would swap with Athos. He started a slow walk around the perimeter of their camp. They were not expecting any issues but it paid to be vigilant.

As he completed a final circuit of the camp, a couple of hours later, he had a feeling something was off. He looked around again, but could not detect anything. He walked towards Athos to wake him for his turn.

A man stepped forward from a dense area of undergrows, with a gun trained on the sleeping form of Athos. The man made a gesture for d'Artagnan to remain silent and still. D'Artagnan did as he was told.

Two men grabbed him from behind, one pushing a gag into his mouth whilst the other made short work of tying his arms behind him and his weapons carefully removed. His capture had taken less than thirty seconds. The men were good, although d'Artagnan had suspected something was amiss they had still managed to take him by surprise.

Two more men were restraining Porthos who, had initially made to shout but when a gun was pointed at Aramis he had immediately gone quiet and allowed himself to be gagged and restrained. Athos received similar treatment, a shocked expression passing his face as he was hauled into a standing position.

Aramis had remained asleep during the event, d'Artagnan wondered if he was actually unconscious from the pain of his injury, as he could not imagine their friend would not have sensed something was going on around him. They were all light sleepers when they camped.

Looking around d'Artagnan noted that a man was leading their horses away, and another was gathering their gear together. He watched as two of the men had a brief conversation, which appeared to be about Aramis. One of them men was quite animated pointing at Aramis' leg which was propped up over a blanket to keep it elevated. It was obvious Aramis was injured, the men appeared to be discussing what they should do. The second man, who appeared to be the leader, made a suggestion which made the first man smirk and nod enthusiastically. He crept up to Aramis, d'Artagnan tensed, causing the man holding him to pull him back slightly.

The man approaching Aramis leaned over and grabbed his boots before retreating. D'Artagnan relaxed slightly, he was aware of Athos and Porthos doing the same, they had clearly been of the same thought; that the man was going to harm their sleeping friend.

The leader of the men indicated that they should go. D'Artagnan found himself pushed forward and away from the camp, he was aware of Porthos behind him and Athos following on as well.

They had been successfully captured and removed from their camp in the space of five minutes. These men were efficient. D'Artagnan wondered what they had in store for them.

MMMM

Athos was pushed to his knees besides Porthos, d'Artagnan on his other side. They had been walking for about thirty minutes. As they had left their own camp they had each been blindfolded making the walk more treacherous and disorientating. The men had not spoken to them only shoving them forward each time one of them slowed down. Now that they had arrived at their destination the blindfolds had been removed.

The leader of the group stepped in front of them. He stood for a few minutes contemplating his captives. The man was in his forties, he was a little shorter than Athos but he looked fit and capable of winning a fight. He was burly, a look of constant readiness about him.

'You will make fine sport. You were blindfolded for a reason my friends,' he said, 'I didn't want you to be able to find your way back too easily.'

Athos recognised the men from the camp that he, d'Artagnan and Aramis had found the previous day. He did not understand how they could have crossed the river so quickly. He wondered if they had copied their own method and built some sort of makeshift bridge, it was the only answer.

The man was speaking again, 'after all, now that you have found us, I want us to have a better chance of winning, so I have had to handicap your chances. Normally the game is given a fair chance, but you are musketeers and you were looking for me and my men, so you will have to work harder for your freedom.'

Porthos was trying to speak through his gag but only earnt a smack to the side of the head for his troubles.

'Quiet,' said the man who had hit Porthos.

'As I was saying,' the leader continued, 'you will have worked out by now I intend to hunt you. Usually I would just let you go, give you a head start and then release my dogs to track you down and kill you.'

Athos had worked that much out for himself. He wondered what would be different for them.

'But when I saw your injured man in the camp, another idea occurred to me,' he paused and gestured to the man who had taken Aramis' boots, 'your friend back at the camp will be the bait the dogs will be looking for. You will have to reach him before the dogs do. How you then get away from my hounds I really cannot guess.'

Porthos was complaining again, this time he was pushed to the ground and the man holding him pinned him there as the leader approached him and crouched down saying, 'I can see you disapprove of my plan, which is a shame, because I think it is a good plan…if you disrupt me again I will change my plan by eliminating one of your friends from the party. Do you understand?'

Porthos nodded and was pulled back to his knees, he glanced over to Athos and d'Artagnan offering a silent apology for his actions.

'Now, where was I…oh yes…you can have a fifteen minutes head start. Use it wisely…my dogs are hungry…I'll even give you a couple of minutes to work out your own plan.'

The man turned his back on them, he walked over to the four salivating hounds that were being allowed to sniff Aramis' boots. The dogs were fierce strong looking beasts, who were giving their handlers a hard time. Each dog was held by one man and all were straining to move, pulling at their leads.

The three musketeers were hauled to their feet, the gags were removed and the men stepped back a couple of paces to give them some privacy to talk.

Athos took his natural place as their leader and spoke first, 'we have to run, we cannot take them on. There are too many of them and we would not be able to deal with the dogs.'

'I agree,' said Porthos as d'Artagnan nodded his own ascent.

'We need to head South,' the other two looked at d'Artagnan, who sighed and looked up, 'the stars and the position of the moon.'

Athos and Porthos both realised what d'Artagnan meant at the same time.

'Well done,' said Porthos, clearly impressed with their young friend's initiative. Athos glanced at Porthos who looked a little contrite, whilst he had been making a nuisance of himself d'Artagnan had been taking in their surroundings and had worked out which way they needed to go.

'Once we are allowed to go we should stay together until we are out of their sight then split up and run a couple of hundred meters apart,' the others looked at Athos puzzled, 'the chances are that Aramis is awake and wondering what happened to us, he may have moved from the camp…probably not far given his injury but he may have moved. And we will stand a better chance of finding him if we split up.'

'We will need to get back to the river to throw the dogs off the scent…' d'Artagnan paused thinking, 'that abandoned farm house, we can meet there.'

The others agreed. The men advanced on them again and roughly turned them round cutting the ropes that were binding their wrists.

'Good luck gentlemen…although it is a bit pointless, because I will win.'

They were released and did not waste any time, running for the tree line. Once out of sight of the camp Athos kept moving straight ahead whilst Porthos moved to his left and d'Artagnan to his right.

Athos only hoped their hurried plan would work.

MMMM

Aramis quickly realised it was pointless trying to find his friends. He had staggered and stumbled about two hundred meters from the camp following their trail. He was now in so much pain he knew that in another few paces he would probably pass out again. He was breathing hard and was cold. The sweat from his exertions cooling and making him shiver. He knew he should try to get warm. Perhaps he should have stayed at the camp and restarted the fire. But it had started raining a while ago. He wondered if his day could get any worse.

He was sure the last time he had fallen he had passed out, although for how long he did not know. His feet and ankles were covered in scratches and bruises, the lack of boots was really making his torturous day worse.

A noise to his left made him look up. He was shocked to see Porthos crashing through the undergrowth. After the initial shock, he smiled and was about to speak as Porthos reached him. Porthos did not say anything, he had a determined look, he grabbed Aramis left arm, pulling it over his shoulder at the same time he snaked his right arm around his waist. Aramis found himself being pulled along at a pace which was really not conducive with his injury. He yelped in pain and confusion.

But Porthos ignored him and half dragged, half carried him onwards through the woods. Aramis tried to complain, but could not get the words out, he was crying out in pain with each gasped breath. He could not understand why his friend was treating him like this when he knew that he was injured. The only explanation was that Porthos was doing this because he had to, they were in danger and this rough treatment was required to get them to safety. Aramis tried to help as much as he could but each step on his left leg was agony.

They broke away from the wood and into the open, heading towards the river. Porthos guided them straight towards the river. They entered the water and turned heading along the shallow edge. The water only reached their knees. But it was cold, and Aramis did not have boots on, this only added to the pain he was in. He could barely breathe now.

Then, as if fate had decided Aramis was not suffering enough he stumbled on a rock and fell from Porthos' grasp, full into the water. Soaked through.

Porthos wasted no time hauling him up and dragging him on along the river. Aramis could feel himself fading, the edges of his vision were greying. He tried to focus but it was becoming impossible.

He knew it would not be long before he passed out.

MMMM