First, a HUGE thank you and virtual hug for Mountain Cat who, despite freezing temps, power outages, and heavy snowfall, managed to get her edits to me! She's really put a polish on this story and I cannot thank her enough!

And for everyone who has stuck with this story and shared your thoughts, a big thank you! It does help keep the fingers walking across the keyboards when you know there are folks out there who enjoy creating and reading about worlds beyond 3 seasons. (I have many more ideas, it's just finding landing pages for them in story form)

These are the last chapters... I hope you enjoy!

Treville sighed and adjusted his hold on the rope leading the packhorse. He had ridden all night, after having opted to take the ferry across the Seine. It had saved him over two days ride to Chalons. The back trails were unpredictable, narrow, and in some locations washed out. He wiped his brow with the sleeve of his jacket, and pulled the collar of his cloak higher on his neck.

Tree branches bowed, leaves tapped one another, and the long grasses arched and swayed like waves slapping the beach of the ocean. The rains had washed away the old growth, and the dead stems of last year's crop now gathered and collected along the edges of narrow streams as spring's runoff continued.

His horse continued at a steady gate, and managed the terrain with little to no effort. The big black nipped at the long grass that grew in abundance along the narrow trail. The chestnut packhorse yanked on the rope, and snatched bites to eat as they progressed.

The sun peered over the horizon and Treville welcomed the clear skies, the bright reds, pinks, oranges and blues that painted the heavens. His horse raised his head, perked his ears forward, and his walk increased in speed. Treville looked ahead, and caught sight of the roof of a building in the distance. He continued onward as the scope of his vision improved. The sun's rays danced off the shafts of the grasses, and he stood up in his stirrups when he spotted four familiar horses. All four jumped to attention, their ears forward, sprigs of grass stuck from the sides of their mouths. They nickered, trotted toward the fence, tossed their heads, and nipped at each other as they cantered and trotted along the fenceline.

Treville sat back in his saddle and urged his horse forward. He rode along the fence while the packhorse trotted to keep up. The three blacks and the dark bay nipped and kicked as they followed. He looked toward the chalet, and watched as smoke rose from the chimney. Treville dismounted, pulled his reins tight, and adjusted the lead on the packhorse. He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and winced when he caught sight of the remnants of burnt flesh and the oily, heavy ash that remained. He walked the horses closer to the house, and pulled his weapon from his belt clip.

"State your name and purpose!" the words were ordered, and Treville raised his hands. He lowered them when he spotted d'Artagnan step from behind the door.

Treville squinted and tiled his head the left. "D'Artagnan?"

There was a hesitation, and d'Artagnan lowered his weapon. "Captain?" There was a pause in his voice, a brief moment of recognition before he stepped out of the shadows. He caught his breath in his throat, felt his chest tighten, and his eyes watered. He hooked his weapon to his belt, rubbed his brow with the heel of his hand, and then stepped forward. He looked down, shook his head in disbelief, and rubbed the back of his neck.

Treville lowered his hands and stepped forward, both horses walked behind him. He looked toward d'Artagnon and frowned. Gone was the stoic young man who was ready to fight, both for what he believed in, and for those who couldn't fight for themselves. Instead, d'Artagnon stood before Treville exhausted, defeated, and emotional.

D'Artagnan ran a hand over his face and quirked a half smiled in relief. "It's really good to see you."

Treville frowned, grasped d'Artagnan's chin and moved his head to the light. Treville pulled his eyebrows together, noticed the dark circles, bruises, and pallor of his his skin. "Remy reported that you'd been hurt?" Treville slipped his hand to d'Artagnon's neck and squeezed.

D'Artagnan shook his head and then met Treville's eyes. "Dislocated shoulder."

"The others?"

D'Artagnan cleared his throat, swallowed, and shook his head. "Athos was injured…" He took a deep breath. "And Aramis thinks he's come down with the winter fever."

Treville ran a hand over his face, and tied his horses to a broken post. "Show me." He followed d'Artagnan into the house.