Monastario could not stop his stomach from rebelling, and leaning against a tree he stood shaking as he lost what little he had eaten earlier in the day. He had gained precious time after his desperate throw and in the dark trees he had lost the two men. An hour later he had stopped at a small overhang - vines snaked around the opening, clinging to the rock and trees, and the entrance was nearly hidden. Monastario had found the opening on accident when he had stopped the horse for fear of falling. His legs could not support him when he dismounted and he had stumbled, his body hitting the ground hard, his left hand brushing the vines and the open entry beyond.

It took him several minutes to catch his breath and stand. Moving slowly he moved to the horse and shook Zorro's leg. The man stirred and Monastario moved to the other side. He gently slapped the masked face and Zorro opened his eyes. He stared a moment at Monastario before he groaned and closed his eyes once again. "No…I can not get you off this horse alone," the Commandante whispered roughly.

Zorro opened his eyes again and nodded. The position was uncomfortable and his body felt numb. He shifted his weight and nausea swept through him, but he kept the reaction in check. Monastario stumbled back around the seemingly large horse and grabbed Zorro's legs and waist. Zorro pushed with his hands and the two men fell in a heap beside the horse. Both men lay there not caring how uncomfortable their positions were. After what seemed a long time Monastario moved. He staggered to a tree and leaned against the cool bark.

Zorro pushed himself up to a sitting position and looked around. He could not recall how he had ended up slung over a horse, but he knew Monastario could tell him. Zorro was certain the bandits were still behind them, though he had no memory of what occurred after his fight with Felipe. He had a vague impression of the desperate ride, but all he could really recall was the strange disconnected feeling that still had not fully departed. A noise to his left drew his attention and he saw Monastario retching into the tall grass. Ignoring his stiff and tired muscles, and the throbbing pain in his shoulder and head, Zorro pushed himself to his feet.

He swayed for a moment before he fully gathered his shaking legs beneath him. The distance did not look as far as it felt as Zorro cautiously moved across the uneven ground. His legs felt heavy and tired, his head ached and all he wanted to do was sleep, but he knew the danger that lay behind them and with an effort born from sheer force of will, Zorro forced his body to work.

Monastario jumped when a hand touched his shoulder. He was surprised to see Zorro behind him. If he had the strength to waste, Monastario would have laughed. Zorro was dirty, sweaty, bruised and battered, his bandanna was slightly crooked and his cape was torn and dusty. His shirt was stained with blood and dirt and his pants were torn just above his left boot. In his mind, Zorro was always a Caballero – he was too well groomed and mannered not to be. Now he saw a disheveled and wounded man, barely able to stand on his own volition. If they ever escaped alive, Monastario would never see Zorro in the same light.

Ignoring the hand on his shoulder, Monastario pushed away from the tree and swiped a sleeve across his mouth. He could not remember a time when a simple drink of water was foremost in his thoughts. He spit to rid his mouth of the unpleasant taste and resigned himself to the fact that he could do nothing about it. Zorro's voice reached his ears and he turned to face the man.
"Where are we?" Zorro asked simply, and Monastario flushed with embarrassment because he had no idea where they were. He had not been paying attention as they rode and in his wild and unplanned flight he cared little about the direction they were heading so long as it was away from Felipe and his men.

"It does not matter," Zorro said as he finally looked at their surroundings. They were in a dense cluster of trees, shadowed and dark in the cold air. Zorro shivered against a strong gust of cool air and in the distance he thought he heard the rumble of thunder. "We need to find some dry shelter and rest for a while." Zorro looked through the treetops at the dark sky – the moon was completely covered by clouds and there was the heavy feel of moisture in the air.

Monastario glanced at the overhang and tentatively pulled back the vines. He could not see inside the opening. He took a careful step into the recess and ducked his head to avoid catching his forehead on the entrance. The area was narrow but it was deep and Monastario knew it would provide the shelter they needed. He could not see the entrance from where he was and he knew that it would take sheer luck to find the opening, just as he had accidentally fallen into the gap earlier.

The Commandante hurried outside as he heard Zorro calling his name in a deep whisper. A twig snapped and Zorro swirled quickly. He exhaled a sigh of relief as Monastario stepped out of the shadows and into the pale light offered by the covered moon. "There is a small cave behind the vines. We can stay the night there and tomorrow we can try to get back to the pueblo. I am sure Sergeant Garcia has sent out the troops by now. There should be soldiers somewhere close."

Zorro nodded and moved to the horse. He took off the saddlebag and blanket and slapped the beast on the rump. The startled animal took off between trees. Monastario moved to catch the horse but stopped a moment later. He turned on Zorro – his fury and pain tumbled out in an incoherent rant as he stood face to face with El Zorro. Monastario jabbed his fist into Zorro's wounded shoulder and the man gasped as pain flooded through his system. Monastario stood shocked as Zorro sank to a knee as one hand was pressed to his shoulder; the other made a fist in the dirt.

Monastario stood there staring until the man stood again. The Capitán noticed Zorro's face was pale, though his cheeks seemed flushed. "Perhaps those men will track the horse and not us. The animal could not hide in the alcove you found. And I don't think I have the strength to mount the horse if we kept him. We can hide better if we walk then if we are on horseback."

Grudgingly Monastario shook his head in agreement. Zorro's reasoning seemed sound, but Monastario knew he could not walk home in his condition, though he refused to admit it out loud. Zorro picked up the saddlebag and the blanket and ducked below the rock ceiling, the vines tickled his cheek as he passed, but he ignored the sensation as he sank to the dry floor. Monastario followed shortly after and he knelt at the far wall, his back pressed against something sharp so he shifted his weight before settling down.

Zorro had his eyes closed and his head titled back, resting against the cool stones. The saddlebag and blanket lay in the middle of the shallow cave, tossed haphazardly as Zorro moved to the wall. Monastario knew one of them should check the saddlebag but he did not have the strength. Both men fell asleep leaning against the rock wall, their knees drawn up and their head resting on their crossed arms. It would be the sound of horses and men that would wake them, but for now, both men slept deeply, their injuries taking a heavy toll on the normally stalwart figures.

ZZZ

Felipe fumed as his brother wrapped his injured arm. The wound was not serious but it burned and Felipe swore he would make the Capitán and Zorro pay for what they had done. If they thought their deaths would be slow to begin with, Felipe promised himself he would make them suffer as long as possible.

Manuel shivered at the look on his older brother's face. He had never seen Felipe so cold, his eyes were nearly black and they reflected the small fire Manuel had built. His jaw was set as though he was clenching his teeth and his brow was furrowed creating deep creases that ran between his dark eyebrows. Manuel looked away and for the hundredth time since they started this crazy plan he wished he was home, safe in a warm house with fresh tortillas and corn, and a soft bed to sleep on, but he knew his brother would not listen to his complaints so he held his tongue and continued his work.

It was nearly an hour later before Felipe and Manuel mounted their horses. Manuel knew that both Monastario and Zorro were not men who would lie idle and wait for what would come. They had both proven that all ready with their escape. And years ago both of these men had shown that they were tenacious and driven. It had taken Zorro several days to track them and Manuel knew that the soldiers were not far behind because they had only been a mile down the road when Zorro had handed the four thieves over before he had turned and raced his black stallion back across the hills.

Manuel did not want to face that again. He had been beaten close to death and the experience had terrified him. He knew Felipe was getting revenge for what had happened, playing his own twisted game of justice, but Manuel was not certain they had been treated in the wrong. Yes, he should not have been beaten, but they were wanted men and none of them had acted innocent, instead they had thwarted every attempt at a peaceful ride to the pueblo. It had simply been Manuel who had drawn the short straw and in turn the ire of the soldiers, or at least one man, who Manuel knew had been discharged from service shortly after. He had tried to put the experience behind him, but now Felipe was determined to see his vengeance carried out, and Manuel could only pray that he was not the victim once again. He had a strange feeling that fate would not play into their hands, but Felipe would not listen, especially after the latest incident, and Manuel knew he would not leave his brother until this was finished. Felipe would not rest until both Zorro and Monastario were dead, he knew. Manuel rubbed his left arm as another shiver raced down his spine and limbs. No, he was certain things would not turn out as Felipe had planned, and he prayed that Felipe and his friends would escape this game Felipe had dragged them into.

TBC