King Louis pulled his mount to a stop, looked around the trunks of trees and branches, and peered toward the river. The winter runoff had raised the water level and caused the current to increase its speed. Water slapped the sides of the banks. Waves faded and expanded as fish surfaced and jumped. Louis watched a river hawk spread its wings, reach with its talons, and capture a fish. With grace and ease, the bird adjusted its position and flew upward with the fish tightly within its grasp. Louis could see his breath in the air as he exhaled, and he inhaled deeply in appreciation of the view. Patches of ice floated with the movement of the river and broke apart as the sun's light warmed the elements. The branches of trees dripped toward the water's surface, and roots spread outward, having surfaced and tentacled toward the river's edge.
"The camp is just a league ahead, majesty," Aramis said, and adjusted his seat in the saddle. He leaned forward, patted his mount's neck and shoulder, and looked up the road.
"Have you ever thought about flight?" Louis turned, looked toward Aramis, and then glanced toward Porthos who pulled his mount to a stop. Louis looked upward through the umbrella of branches and closed his eyes. He ignored the other musketeers who stood guard on horseback. "What it might be like to fly above and look down at the rivers, the forests… to be so small and see so much all at once?" He returned his gaze toward the river.
Aramis cocked an eyebrow and shrugged. "I can not say that I have, majesty," he said, and looked toward Porthos who shrugged.
"You should," Louis said, and met his eyes. "You never know what you might see from that vantage point… what you might learn," he looked at Aramis, "what you might discover." He urged his mount into a trot and continued toward their encampment.
Porthos cocked an eyebrow and shook his head. "Think he spends a lot of time thinkin' about bein' a bird?" He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the pommel of his saddle. He bent his wrist in an up and down motion as the reins rubbed along his horse's neck. Porthos cleared his throat, spit, and then wiped his lips with the fat of his thumb.
Aramis cocked his head to the right and shrugged his right shoulder. "On the contrary, Porthos, I don't think he thinks about it enough."
Porthos chuckled and watched his fellow musketeers trot their horses past. They nodded and followed the king. Porthos turned and looked the way they had come. "Think the queen will be able to keep up this pace?"
Aramis shrugged. "Treville is with her," he said, and nudged his horse's sides. "I'm sure they'll be fine."