The early morning spring air nipped at Athos' skin. The pink hues were appearing at the horizon. He tightened the scarf around his neck. His hands still shook, and while the chill in his bones had become more tolerable, sore muscles and exhaustion still cursed his body. The barn smelled of old hay, manure, dust, and dampness. Cows looked up and over their stalls. A draft horse perked his ears forward, but continued to eat his hay. A few chickens rested perched on the railing and nesting in boxes along the wall, and a goose peeked beneath a two wheeled-cart.

Athos ran his hands over the gray gelding's legs and checked him for injury. Other than a patch of missing hair on this rump, he had amazingly survived the fall with little harm. The tack had been damaged, but was usable. With careful and calculated movements, Athos saddled the gelding, tightened the cinch, buckled the breast-collar, and adjusted the saddlebags. He paused a moment as his side and back protested and he caught his breath. He then unhooked the halter, looped it around the gray's neck, and then carefully slipped the bridle into place.

He led the horse out of the barn and watched Jermaine jump from the porch, run from the house, and chase the rooster. He spread his arms wide, clucked, and hopped. Evan chased after him, and within minutes they were on the ground fighting: punches were thrown, hair was pulled, and screams echoed. Eadan shook her head, closed her eyes, and tightened the shawl around her shoulders. She adjusted a bundle in her arm and tightened her grip around a cloth bag. For a moment she thought about stopping her grandsons, but decided against it. It was apparent that gentlemanly behavior would be learned from experience and not taught. This would not be their last fight. She stepped off the porch and walked toward Athos as he led the horse toward her. Osgar walked behind her with Athos' main gauche and weapons belt.

"If I were twenty years younger I'd be worried about the bloody noses and bruised feelings, but quite honestly…" Eadan shrugged, and looked toward her grandchildren, "I'm at an age where I just don't care. And," he turned and watched them part and Evan run from his younger brother, "maybe one day they'll learn."

"But they're Irish," Athos said, and curled his lips into a smile.

"Yes," Eadan said, "there is that." She stepped toward him, handed him a heavy cloak, and a small wrapped cloth bag filled with food. "It was my son's… it's not nearly as warm as it should be, but it will help — and a bit of food." She met his eyes, rubbed the backs of her arms, and shook her head. "If you were my son, I'd tell you how foolish you are for leaving." Eadan pointed toward the gelding's tail. Long hairs stood apart from one another, making his tail look fuller than it was. "There's a storm coming and you'll be riding into the middle of it."

Athos nodded and ran his hand along the gelding's shoulder. "I might miss it."

"This is the high country, Monsieur Athos, not Paris." Eadan said. She looked toward Osgar, who nodded and handed Athos his weapons belt and main gauche.

"Travel safe, Monsieur," Osgar said, shook Athos' hand, and turned toward his brothers.

Eadan watched Athos drape the cloak over his shoulders, wince as he did so, and then she shook her head. "I have yet to meet a soldier who wasn't foolish."

Athos slipped the bag of food into the saddlebag, and checked the cinch, before he lowered the stirrup into place. "I cannot thank you enough, Madame Eadan." He stepped toward her. "I'm indebted to you."

"Know this, young man," Eadan raised her eyebrows, set her jaw, and pursed her lips, "if musketeers show up here looking for you because you didn't make it back — I'll personally hunt you down, and you'll not appreciate our reunion." She met his eyes and nodded.

Athos quirked a smile, leaned toward her, and kissed her cheek. "Merci," he said, and turned to mount his horse. He adjusted the cloak, nodded toward her one more time, and nudged the gray's sides. He looked toward the boys as they stopped their antics. All three waved, and then Jermaine during their distraction, shoved Evan and ran toward the barn.

Athos rode along the river and listened to the roaring water as it slammed into the large boulders, roared with the onslaught of runoff, and snapped tree limbs, as it continued its passage toward the major waterway. The winds picked up and branches bowed with the force. The gray walked with a steady gait across the terrain, stumbling occasionally as a shod hoof met a slick stone.

He could feel every muscle protest as he shifted position in the saddle. He tightened the cloak around his shoulders, felt the chill of his bare hands, and was grateful for the wool socks that kept his feet warm. He caught sight of ducks on the water, content with the cold, and the brutal waves as they stayed close to shore.

He looked at the water again, shivered against the chill in the air, and felt the air change around him. The dark clouds opened up, rolled with force, and brought the rain. The river would again rise, the raging waters would continue their unrelenting force, and trees would continue to fall as the softened ground succumbed to the unbalanced scales of Mother Nature.

Athos hunched forward, tightened the cloak around his shoulders, and continued the long ride toward the chateau.