The gentle hilt of the horse's trot nudged Aldonza awake. Her eyes opened slowly, cautiously. She saw a gray mass obscuring her view of the purple morning sky, and she struggled to comprehend what the coarse hair and pale skin could be. The young woman was keenly aware of a few things, the first thing being a throbbing pain in her right foot. The second thing she was aware of was that she was loosely being carried, though her head was held stable in a man's large hands.
The air around her was crisp yet warming, as if the landscape was a pot that had been set over open flames to warm the day's delicious atmosphere. Aldonza scrunched her nose towards her eyes and slowly brought back her tongue to lick her chapped lips, to taste life. Clearing her throat, she found her voice and exclaimed weakly, "Who are you?"
"Lady Dulcinea!" Don Quixote cried with excited surprise. "God was kind, for he knew it would leave me vulnerable and deflated to the point where I could not accomplish my quest, which is ultimately His quest, without you by my side!" He pulled on the horse's mane until it came to an uneasy halt, jostling the three bodies on its back with slight agitation.
"Aldonza." Pedro exclaimed in a weak yet loving voice. "You're okay."
"I… I am." The young woman replied, leaning to a sitting position with the aid of sturdy hands. At the new movement she suddenly flung forward with the grace of a newborn calf so that she was leaning against Don Quixote's chest, her head propped up against his shoulder and her feet twisted underneath her. Pedro reached out to caress her face and placed his forehead against hers, rubbing his nose softly against hers and whispering, "I was so scared I wouldn't see you again."
"You never need to worry about that, mi amor." She replied in a husky voice. "I don't go down without a fight." A grim smile separated her lips, which puckered when Pedro brought his upon her cheek.
"Shall we stop and make camp?" Don Quixote bellowed cheerfully, pleased and suddenly renewed now that his lady was conscious and functioning properly.
Pedro glanced up to take in their surroundings. They were in a field of wild flowers, tall grasses shooting from the earth like wild, vibrant hair. A lake was nearby, he could tell, as the croaking of frogs and buzz of flies could be heard in the distant through the thickening air. "We shall stop for a few hours." He began, slowly climbing off the horse before lifting Aldonza from her original seat. "But then we must go. We are so close to El Tobozo. And one thing is definite—I don't trust the delusional safety of anywhere until Paco and Juan are dead."
Pedro removed his over shirt and stretched it out on a grassy knoll before placing Aldonza gingerly on it. He returned moments later with a worn out saddle bag. Opening it, he retrieved fresh bandages and offered her his hand. "Squeeze this." He told her, retrieving a needle and thread from the depths of the bag. "This is going to hurt, but I have to clean it." The man brought surprisingly nimble fingers to the mouth of the gash and slowly peeled the flesh back, cringing as Aldonza yowled out in excruciating pain. With determination and steady hand, Pedro proceeded to remove the dirt and prickling hay from it, pushing stringy muscle fibers back into the wound and daringly plunging a hand into it to rearrange stranded bones. Aldonza squeezed his hand until it was turning purple, causing Pedro to bite nearly through his lip. The skin around the wound was bruising, patches of grey, yellow and blue combining to form a putrid color that seemed to emit a dangerous odor. Still, nevertheless he worked patiently and progressively until he was wrapping the soon-to-be-soiled cloth around her foot, padding it with protective ease and snipping the threads as he sewed the bandage together.
"Thank you." The young woman whimpered as she laid on the blanket, releasing her firm grip on Pedro's hand yet keeping her limp hand in its shadow.
"Señor Antonin!" Don Quixote exclaimed, falling to his knees and bowing to the surprised man. "It is with my greatest honor and dignity that I thank thee for helping restore my Lady Dulcinea to her greatest and most effective health."
Aldonza glanced snidely at Pedro, her eyes revealing that she had hoped when she returned to consciousness she would be waking from a dream, and that is crazed lunatic was merely a harsh illusion her mind had made up. Pedro shrugged and handed her his mug. "Drink." He told her, nodding to the old man and placing a hand on his shoulder. "It will dull the pain, both of your foot and of, well…" He nodded again in the direction of Don Quixote and patted his shoulder, standing up with dignity and dominance. "You're welcome, Señor Quixote." He called out in an authoritative voice. "Now, let us set up a brief camp. May I have thine right hand to do me this fair service?"
Aldonza giggled at Pedro's adopted language, trying to muffle the musical sound against the lip of the mug as she took another swig of alcohol. "I grant thee!" Don Quixote exclaimed, standing up quickly and trotting towards his horse. "Is Señor Antonin hungry?"
"I could use some nourishment." The man replied as he gathered firewood and dumped it in a cleared spot; someone had clearly camped here before. "But thy lady is weak from her injury, and needs it more than I. Prepare enough for her; whatever she does not wish to consume, we shall feast on." Pedro rolled his eyes towards Aldonza at having to speak like this, but turned quickly to offer a large, comical smile to Don Quixote.
"Precisely what I was thinking." Don Quixote supplied, reaching for a second saddle bag before tethering their horse to a nearby tree branch. From the depths of the bag he pulled out a hunk of stale bread, some seeds and a rare pair of apples. Promptly he seated himself on the ground and began to pare with the apples with a dull knife, humming a merry tune.
Pedro knelt by the pile of wood and set to work rubbing sticks together, tending to a tiny flame that emerged and began to consume the dry kindling. "Pedro!" Aldonza gasped as she watched her lover's shoulders move back and force, muscle straining through his blood-stained shirt.
"What is it, mi gato?" Pedro exclaimed as he jumped to his feet in a defensive stance.
"Your shoulder!" Aldonza cried out, attempting to raise herself onto her elbows, though her weak body protested.
"What about it?" Pedro questioned, slowly looking around the meadow before returning to his knees and work.
"It's all bloody. What happened—did you get stabbed?" Pedro supplied her with a nonverbal answer and a sad nod of the head. "Who did this to you?" Aldonza's voice was fierce, wild as she questioned him.
"Sister Maria." Pedro answered, though quickly added, "But I can't even feel it. In all honestly, until you mentioned it I didn't even remember it was there." He winced as he added more firewood to the burgeoning flames, the wound stretching and causing him more pain than he'd like to admit.
"But what if it's infected?" Aldonza questioned seriously.
"And what if your foot's going to fall off?" Pedro questioned with a rough retort. "We don't know what's going to happen, Aldonza! We could be sitting ducks right now. All I know is that I'm trying to get through the hours before I kill those evil traitors, those sick bastards that hurt you and I and our loved ones."
There was a quiet tension in the air as Aldonza mulled this over, her eyes unable to tear themselves away from the gruesome, bloody wound. "Listen, Aldonza, I'm—" Pedro began.
He was cleanly interrupted by the exclamation of Don Quixote: "The food is prepared!" The wizened man stood with a stumble and brought over a small cloth-full of food to the young woman. Pedro abandoned the now-blazing fire and sat behind his lover, helping her into a sitting position with sturdy arms and legs. "My lady," He greeted, handing her the cloth with a small bow before exclaiming, "Eat, and may it bring thee the greatest of health!"
Aldonza emitted a little giggle as she watched the crazed knight-errant strut towards the fire and begin to warm his hands by it. She glanced down at the food and smiled warmly before tearing off a small chunk of bread and chewing it with slow, deliberate moves. Her eyes closed as the nourishment entered her body before more, more, more came, more filled, more supplied.
"Remind me again of your quest." Don Quixote bellowed from his place near the fire. "If you will so entertain, Señor Antonin."
"We wish to return to El Tobozo." Pedro replied, sneaking a piece of apple from the pile. "We are on a mission to retrieve my brother, and avenge Aldonza's father."
"Why avenge?" The older man asked, turning towards the two with curiosity.
"He was killed." Aldonza replied darkly through a crisp bite of apple.
"And do you wish to kill the others?"
"If it proves so necessary." Aldonza replied, casting her eyes around the meadow as she thought of this.
"No," Pedro corrected, gripping her shoulder. "We will. They will not have the pleasure to see life, not after what they did to us."
"They were your friends." Aldonza mumbled through a mouthful of seeds and bread.
"And they betrayed me." Pedro stated darkly through heavily-lidded eyes. His lip curled venomously as he concluded, "And no one betrays me."