Porthos glanced at Aramis, who had his eyes closed, a pained expression on his face.

'It would help if you looked where we were going,' said Porthos.

Aramis opened his eyes and muttered an apology.

'Who'd have thought a nail would cause such a nuisance.'

Aramis chuckled before gasping and closing his eyes again.

The terrain was rocky and uneven, it was difficult for them to find anywhere to walk side-by-side that did not involve forcing Aramis to bend his leg and exacerbate his injury. Getting impaled by a nail whilst stealing a book was not the most heroic of injuries, Porthos was already thinking up as many teasing remarks as he could. Poor Aramis would be struggling to get around for several days, and as for getting him onto the back of a horse…

They had not had time to dress the injury, Porthos hoped they would not have any issues cleaning it, the last thing they needed was to deal with an infection on their way back to Paris. They might be forced to separate with two of them going on to Paris whilst the other looked after Aramis. That held its own problems. Whoever had the book would become a target, with only two of them they would be vulnerable.

Aramis was sweating from the effort of walking and being forced to put pressure on his right leg, but they had no choice. They had to get off the land owned by the man they had stolen the book from. They had to get back to their camp, and its promise of relative safety.

As they continued to stumble along Porthos glanced back occasionally wondering how Athos and d'Artagnan were doing. Their part of the plan had been to act as a distraction if needed. When they were, unfortunately, needed, it put them in danger as well. The landowners' watchmen may have been a ragtag bunch, but they appeared to be loyal. But Athos and d'Artagnan could look after themselves, for all Porthos knew they might have reached the camp already and were wondering where they were.

The last few yards of their journey involved walking through a narrow alleyway of rocks. Porthos pushed Aramis ahead of him. His friend used the rocky walls to steady himself. Porthos could see how much pain Aramis was in, he was barely putting any weight on his injured leg and could not suppress the odd whimper of pain. Porthos was going to tease Aramis, but not until he was sure his friend was on the way to recovery. At that moment he was too concerned for Aramis' well-being.

The alleyway of rocks opened up into a rough circle of stone that had been weathered over the years to form a bowl. Porthos guessed water flowed through the narrow alleyway in the damper months of the year. But now they had a small trickle of water exiting their camp. Enough to provide fresh water, something they would need to deal with Aramis' injury.

'They're not back yet,' remarked Aramis as he allowed Porthos to help him to the centre of their camp.

Porthos looked around, there was no sign that the others might have returned and gone off again. The thought that the pair were still causing a distraction worried Porthos.

'Go and look for them,' said Aramis.

'You're injured.'

'I can deal with it, just get me some water and I can wash and dress it.'

Porthos glared at Aramis. He could see his friend's point. Once settled Aramis probably would be able to look after himself. He was a competent medic and it would not be the first time he had cleaned and dressed an injury to himself.

'Porthos, please,' said Aramis. 'I'm worried about them as well.'

Porthos huffed and nodded. He helped Aramis to get to his knees and shift to half lie on his left side with his injured leg stretched out. Porthos got his first proper look at the injury and winced in sympathy for Aramis.

The nail had dug deeply into the flesh on Aramis' hip, slicing a cut of a couple of inches. The wound was still bleeding, leaving a dark stain on the leather of Aramis' breeches.

'You can't stitch that on your own,' said Porthos.

Aramis shook his head, 'I don't want to stitch it yet, need to wait a bit to be sure it's not infected. You may have to leave without me. I doubt I'll be getting on the back of a horse for at least a couple of days.'

Porthos thought Aramis' estimate was conservative but chose not to say anything, he began mentally tallying how much money they had between them and wondered if they could hire a cart for the return journey.

A hiss from behind him caused Porthos to whirl on the spot, pulling his gun at the same time. He sighted and readied his finger to pull the trigger before he fully focused on the two men in front of him.

'Quick reflexes are admirable, Porthos,' muttered Athos, 'but I have been shot once already and would rather it did not happen again.'

Athos looked dishevelled; his arm was around d'Artagnan's shoulder. D'Artagnan had one arm around Athos' waist and the other loosely holding his gun.

'What happened to you?' d'Artagnan asked, nodding to Aramis.

'I didn't get shot,' answered Aramis. 'I got impaled instead.'

Athos managed a pained smile, 'between us we may make one healthy man.'

'Or one broken one,' countered Aramis. 'How bad is it?'

'Hey,' said Porthos. 'You are not about to start pretending you're not injured. You two are going to lie there and let us deal with you.'

'But …'

'Really it's …'

'He's right,' said d'Artagnan before either Athos or Aramis could form a sentence. 'You two don't get a say.'

Aramis looked as though he was going to protest further but changed his mind. Porthos smirked and glanced at d'Artagnan who shrugged.

Athos was deposited next to Aramis who could not help but try to see the wound to Athos' leg.

'The ball went through,' said Athos as he shifted a little to get comfortable, 'I am grateful for that at least.'

D'Artagnan appeared with a freshly filled waterskin, he knelt between the injured men and glanced up at Porthos. Porthos nodded before settling on the floor behind Aramis.

'We got back first,' said Porthos, before grabbing Aramis around the shoulders to hold him steady whilst d'Artagnan cleaned the wound.

After pushing the injured man's breeches and braies away from the wound he liberally doused it with water before grabbing the bottle of alcohol from Aramis' medical bag. Porthos felt Aramis tense up as d'Artagnan tipped the bottle. The injured man hissed in pain before gasping a couple of times, unable to prevent his reaction. Porthos was not surprised when Aramis relaxed and became heavy in his arms. Porthos laid his unconscious friend back before helping d'Artagnan to dress the wound. They left Aramis lying on his side, a waterskin within easy reach for when he woke up.

Athos looked troubled as the two uninjured men turned their attention to him.

'The book needs to be taken back to Paris,' he said. 'With two of us compromised …'

Porthos nodded, 'Aramis wanted us to leave him so that we could get the book taken back, but I didn't want to leave him alone. And neither of you is in any state to defend yourselves.'

'I'll take it,' said d'Artagnan.

'No,' said Athos, 'I do not wish to speak ill of you, Porthos, but you will have to take the risk. D'Artagnan is the better medic of the two of you. And much as I dislike the idea of you taking the book on your own, we will need help for a couple of days.'

Porthos chuckled when he saw d'Artagnan's expression.

'He's giving you a compliment and insulting me,' said Porthos. 'All I'm good for is acting as a messenger whilst you get the glory of looking after these two.'

D'Artagnan furrowed his brow, 'are you sure that's the better deal.'

Athos huffed at d'Artagnan's remark causing Porthos to laugh again, 'best get you sorted then so that I can be on my way.'

In a repeat of the care given to Aramis, d'Artagnan cleaned the wounds to Athos' leg. Athos made a valiant attempt to remain conscious but passed out in much the same manner as Aramis. After covering the pair with their cloaks, the two uninjured Musketeers sat back on their heels.

'They'll know the book has been stolen,' said d'Artagnan as he carefully tidied Aramis' medical bag.

Porthos nodded, 'I know, but on my own it might be easier to evade them.'

'Might be,' repeated d'Artagnan with a shake of his head.

Porthos knew his friend was correct, the landowner had probably already found the book missing and would be mounting a hunt for the thieves. There was the chance that the landowners' watchmen would find their hiding place, and there was a chance that the watchmen would find him as he made his way back to Paris.

None of them was safe.

Only time would tell if they all managed to escape without further confrontation or injury.

To be continued…

Whumpee: Athos and Aramis. Featuring: D'Artagnan and Porthos.