Author's Note: Wow, this is my first official chapter as 'Buttered Angie'. Let me just say: "Yes!" Chapter 13 up! Finally! This one took a while, and I've only got a chance to go over about half of it thoroughly, so please ignore any careless mistakes in the second half. Thanks for all your reviews – they're all really encouraging. It's great to see so many people like this story! The story is kind of progressing a little bit more now, the chapter after this will probably be a bit boring, but chapter 15 … ah, I won't give anything away. Hope you like it, and reviews are always welcome! Keep reading and writing! =)

Buttered Angie

A Thousand Miles

What It Takes

- - -

Am I real? Am I a dream?

Am I borrowed? Am I blue?

Is it just the dust of leaving you settling?

Am I fair? Am I strong?

Am I there? Do I belong?

Is it only skin I touch when I reach for you?

Settling by Tara MacLean

- - -

The cool evening breeze tiptoed across Rory's tearstained cheeks. 'I wonder if the stars ever get lonely?' she thought, staring numbly at the moonlit heavens above her. The night world had always been her comfort, her solitude, and her reverie, but now it meant nothing.

She felt as if her whole life had come crashing down around her and she was powerless to stop it. It was all she could do not to scream out loud. Almost everything she had once loved and cherished in this world had disappeared into oblivion. They told her to stay hopeful; that Jess was a fighter and he would make it through this, but she didn't buy it. She had tried to believe them – she honestly tried. And maybe for one blissful moment she did believe that he would be okay. But then she saw the blood – pools of his blood – drenching his clothes, slowly seeping into the ground …

Love and wishful thinking weren't enough to save him. He needed a miracle.

Rory bit on her bottom lip to muffle the sobs, but she couldn't stop the tears from falling. The once gentle breeze now broke out into a fierce, shrieking gale. Her unrestrained hair whipped and flailed wildly around her figure, illuminated in the moonlight. She sank to the ground, trying desperately to cover her head with her arms. She could no longer tell the difference between the wind's howls and her own.

'Please don't leave me like this,' she begged as she slowly lowered herself to the ground, making a pillow for her head with her arms. She could smell the gritty grass underneath her fingers. She could taste the salt of her own tears.

* * * * *

What was her name? She couldn't remember. Wait, yes she could. Her name was Rory. She was wandering through an endless valley of myth, or was it mist? It was a little hard to tell. It didn't matter anyhow. Somewhere about her she heard the haunting melody of an old lullaby being played on a wooden pipe. How did the words go? She used to know...

Where were her shoes? Her feet felt cold. The grass was smooth and glassy beneath her feet, not like the grass Rory was used to at all. Looking down, she saw that each blade twinkled delicately with new fallen dew. All around her, the grass was shimmering. It was strangely enchanting, almost hypnotic. She didn't dare move, scared she might break the queer thread of magic that was weaving its spell within her.

What was that smell? It was the smell of dew falling on honeycomb. Of roses covered in winter's first snow. Of warm sunlight stretching out its long fingers through the twisted boughs of ancient oak trees. Of life and of love.

What was that? Something brushed against her cheek, something soft and warm and sweet. There it was again! She caught a glimpse of pink. It was showering pink rose buds! It was the most magnificent thing that she had ever seen. Their sweet fragrance floated about her, through her, within her, the indulgent perfume intoxicating. From where were the flowers falling? Why were they falling? They were a welcome, but not for her. Someone else was coming…

Who was it? It was a woman. First she wasn't there, and then she was! The woman walked tall, radiating with pride and elegance. She wore a pale satin dress, which shimmered as shy and mystically as a star. Her dark hair had been curled into playful ringlets that fell just below her shoulders and her eyes were such that Rory felt as though she was looking into two of her own.

"Mum," Rory whispered. It wasn't a question. It was a word that seemed to come from within her, from the hollow of her nature, the very depths of her soul.

"Hi sweetheart!" Lorelai Gilmore smiled brightly at her daughter. In appearance she looked solid and corporeal, but her voice was only an echo, like she was speaking to Rory from a long way away. "How do you feel? Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Rory said softly. Never before had she felt as close to her mother than she did in that moment. All the empty feeling that she had kept hidden within her heart was now replaced with gentle and tender love – a mother's love.

Lorelai lifted her slim hand and caressed Rory's cheek. "Oh, my baby," she murmured over and over again, tears forming in her clear blue eyes.

"Mum!" Rory flung herself into her mother's arms and felt the warmth of a mother's hug for the first time. For her whole life she had imagined what it would be like to have her mother hug her, and now she finally knew - it felt like a miracle.

"I know you've been through a lot, honey," Lorelai said after they had separated. "And I know you're finding it difficult to deal with Jess getting injured."

"What do you mean? How do you know about Jess?" Rory had so many questions that she wanted to ask her mother, but was only capable of voicing them one at a time. "Have you been watching me?"

Lorelai suddenly laughed, and all the myths and mists cleared away, revealing a new dawn breaking. The sunrise cast an orange glare over them both, and Lorelai's lovely dress now shined a brilliant gold.

"You bet," she said, and then her expression hardened. "Oh, and by the way, be more careful about who you spend your time with, okay? Off the record, I don't think Jess is the type of company I want my little girl to be associating with. Some of the thing's he's done… well, let me just say that he's a very dangerous person to be around."

"You mean he's going to live?" Rory asked, purposely overlooking her mother's well-meant warning.

"That all depends on you," Lorelai said seriously, lowering her voice. Rory felt a cold chill run down her spine. "You are going to be made an odd offer – sometime soon - by a certain individual whose name I'm not allowed to tell you. All I can tell you is that he's a spunk. And you have to – "

"Wait," Rory interrupted. " What's a spunk?"

"Oh you know," Lorelai said vaguely "like a hottie, or a babe, or something. But anyway, that's not the point. What I'm trying tell you is…"

"Hot-tea? Bay-ebb? Um…"

"Yeah, like a cutie," Lorelai looked at her daughter hopefully.

"Key-you-tea?" Rory was completely lost. Her mother sighed in exasperation.

"A. Handsome. Man. You have got to know what a handsome man is. Please tell me you know what a handsome man is."

"Oh." Rory nodded, but didn't really understand. "Yes, I know..."

Satisfied with the latest improvements in Rory's vocabulary, Lorelai continued on. "Anyway, as I was saying, its up to you to decide whether or not you're going to accept or decline this offer. But choose carefully, because your choice is going to shape the state of the future world." Lorelai paused for effect, then added dramatically, "And whether or not Jess is going to die."

"How will I know which is the right choice?" Rory's heart started to quicken it's pace. This was like some fantastically ethereal dream. She could no longer tell the difference between fantasy and reality.

"Oh, you'll know," Lorelai said cryptically. "Just be true to yourself, and follow your guy instinct. Oh, pardon, did I say guy? I meant gut…"

The sentence died on Lorelai's lips. She suddenly turned her head sharply to one side, seeing something that Rory could not. All emotion faded from her face, and her eyes became glassy and expressionless. "You have to go now," she said in a hollow voice. "Goodbye."

"Wait! Mum, wait!" Rory cried, and reached for her mother. She didn't want to see her go. She didn't want to lose her all over again. But when she tried to grab hold of Lorelai's arm, her hand touched nothing but air. It was too late. Her mother was gone.

The flowers stopped falling, becoming ghosts of the past. The grass felt rough against her feet. The smell of moist soil filled her nostrils. She was going back…

* * * * *

Rory opened her eyes. It was now daybreak. Had she fallen asleep? She must have. She sat up stiffly, wincing at the cramps in her neck and back. She had had a strange dream, but she couldn't quite remember what it was about. She knew it had something to do with Jess…and someone trying to warn her about something…

It was pointless. Trying to remember the details of a lost dream was like trying to hold water in cupped hands. No matter how hard you persevered, you were going to lose it all in the end. 'Kind of like my life at the moment,' she thought wryly.

Slowly, she got to her feet. There were grass stains on her clothes and leaves tangled in her hair. Her face was stained with dirt and tears. Yawning, she made her way across the field of yellowing grass, silently debating whether or not she was ready to go back to Luke's hut yet. In fact, she was so deep in thought that she was oblivious to the sound of horses' hooves thundering behind her, mistaking the heavy thud of metal hitting dirt for the sound of her own heartbeat, pounding in her ears. By the time her fatigued senses realised that someone was following her, it was too late to even consider hiding. Exhausted, tried and spiritless, she turned around to size her pursuer up. Might as well make the job easier for them, she thought as she planted her feet to the ground and shielded the sun from her eyes.

Behind her, but still a way off, there was a man riding on a horse. Rory could tell straight away that he was male from the arrogant way that he rode his horse. The horse itself looked magnificent; it was strong, fast, and pure white in colour. Rory knew for a fact that the only place anyone could get a horse as lovely as that was the palace. Chances were the man on the horse was from the palace as well.

The man himself was cloaked in black and grey, and his face was hooded, obscuring his facial features. Rory immediately noted that whoever it was had both natural skill and much experience in the saddle. He was also not alone.

Behind the cloaked rider, a plump man dressed in red velvet was driving a roofed carriage pulled by two horses. The probability that these two men were working together was high, because all three horses were of the same breed. Rory felt a sense strange déjà vu as her gaze passed over the man in red velvet, like she had seen him somewhere before, but he was too far away for her to be sure. From that distance, he could be anyone.

The cloaked rider was only a mile or two out from her by now, and, seeing that she was making no attempt to run away, slowed the horse down to a steady trot. Rory waited patiently. She felt an insane, serene sort of calm wash over her. Nothing could rattle her now, not after all she'd been through - or so she believed.

The horse stopped in front of her. She ran her hand lightly along the horse's nose in salutation, and it nuzzled her cheek affectionately. Jess had taught her everything she knew about horses, and she loved the creatures with all her heart. She whispered to it soothingly, stroking its long neck, and yet all the while she felt the eyes of the cloaked rider upon her, watching her. He was still seated upon his horse, and was looking down on her - something that made Rory feel especially uncomfortable. She knew now for sure that this rider was from the palace.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" Rory kept her gaze lowered to the ground, but her voice was all confidence. She did not survive years of treacherous thieving to come to such an end as to be attacked by a single rider.

The rider eased off his horse, landing soundlessly on the ground. Rory deduced that the rider must be at least her age, if not older, from of the size and width of his feet, and that he must be considerably rich, from of the quality of his shoes.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" she repeated, her gaze now focused on his soft, leather shoes. His silence was more unnerving than if he were to speak. Jess had always said that a person who remained silent was either extremely dangerous or extremely clever, and had to be kept watch over even more vigilantly than the rest. The quiet ones were always the ones who caused the most havoc.

"Why do you not look at me?" the rider said. His voice was smooth and deep, and still slightly breathless from riding. Rory's heart started to beat faster. She knew that voice. It was … but no, it couldn't be…could it? Rory heard the sound soft material being drawn back. The rider had unhooded himself. She forced herself to look up at him, to see if he was who she knew he would be. He was exactly who she thought he was. It was none other than the King himself - Tristan DuGrey.

Rory could not bring herself to do anything more than to stare. What was she supposed to do? What was the king here for? And why was he looking at her in such an … odd way? 'Hurry up and say something!' she thought frantically.

"Don't stare at me like that," she said at last, and immediately regretted it, for as soon as she spoke the King looked at her even harder. Rory suddenly became conscious of the brown smudges on her face and the grass bits in her hair, and her cheeks grew warm. She wanted to break free from his intense gaze, but found she could not.

"I'm not the only one who's staring," the King countered back. Rory quickly turned her head, forcing herself to look away. She was frightened. She wanted to be back at Luke's hut. She wanted to be with her friends. She wanted to be with Jess. She definitely did not want to be standing defenceless in the middle of a field, doing absolutely nothing, while the King watched her like some sort of hawk.

What in the world could he want from her? She didn't have any money, and hardly any possessions. 'Maybe he wants to put me under arrest!' Rory panicked. She was loosing control. 'I've got to get out of here!' was the one thought that rang clear through the panic-induced chaos in her mind. Her eyes flickered from the King's horse, to the carriage further off, to the large field about her. She felt the beginnings of a plan forming in her mind …

Rory took a few slow steps backwards, giving herself ample space to move. The king opened his mouth, about to say something, but Rory didn't stick around in time to hear it. One minute she was standing right in front of him and the next second she was off, sprinting across the field, the wind blowing back her long, dark hair.

"Wait!" Tristan yelled after her. "I command you to wait!"

'As if any command of yours could stop me,' Rory thought as she ran. 'You don't have any control over me at all. Well, at least not yet…'

Tristan cursed under his breath. Stepping once more into the horse's saddle, he eased into a slow trot for a few moments before breaking into a full out gallop, pushing the horse as hard as it would go. He knew there was no way she could outrun him while he was mounted. What was she playing at?

Rory heard the King's horse pick up speed. She knew that it was almost impossible for her to outrun a mounted pursuer, but that didn't mean she wasn't allowed to try. The faster the horse's hooves hit the ground the more determined she became. Faster! Faster! Her bare feet were protesting, but her resolve was firm. She sensed the horse gaining on her. She could feel it's hot breath just above her shoulder. The heavy thud of metal on grass mirrored the beats of her heart, still she willed herself to press on.

The horse was level with her now. She could see the king rounding it off, bringing her in. She stopped running for a moment, trying to catch her breath. Her face was hot with exertion. Her blood was hot with adrenalin. She could see every little feature on the King's face. He looked down on her with some sort of triumph in his eyes. He thought he had her.

As he coaxed the horse towards her, slowing right down, he shot her a sort of pitying smile. "Don't wear yourself out, now," he said, all full of himself.

Rory took this opportunity to smooth her hair away her blue eyes. She levelled her gaze with his. "Impossible."

She paused for a moment, enjoying the King's confused expression, before taking off again, running back the way she had come. Heading straight towards her, though still a fair distance away, was the wooden carriage she had seen behind the King earlier. It was picking up speed. She too picked up speed.

The horse was coming up from behind her again. She slowed down a little, pretending to be tired. She sensed yet again the horse's hot breath. Now she was running along side it. Rory drew herself in a little closer to the horse. The king's leather riding shoe was right up against her cheek. She knew he was looking down on her again, but she concentrated hard on his shoe, and on the foot hold of the horse's saddle. In one smooth movement, she both pulled down on the metal foot hold and grabbed onto horse's reigns, pulling on them hard to slow the horse down. She then put her on left foot through the foot hold, wincing as the sharp metal cut into her bare foot. Then balancing all her weight and summoning up all her strength, she stood up on that one foot, and grabbed onto the king's shoulder with her other hand for balance.

"What do you think you're doing!" the King yelled, but Rory paid no attention. It wasn't important. What was important was getting away. She would deal with the consequences later.

The horse had stopped completely, and was now loitering from side to side trying to balance the uneven weight on its back.

"Sorry, Your Majesty," Rory said. Then she pushed him by the shoulders off the horse's back. He looked at her for a moment with panic in his eyes, and grabbed her hand in an attempt to hold himself on the horse. His weight, though, seemed to be much more than Rory's, and she could not keep her balance, getting pulled her off the horse with him. The next thing Rory knew she was lying on the cold grass, the king's body beneath her. She could feel his chest moving up and down as he breathed in and out. She felt the heat rising to her cheeks.

"Are you okay?" Tristan asked her as she detached herself from him. She got up silently, trying to maintain what dignity she had left. Her elbow was aching and her foot was stinging, but she said nothing. She proceeded to brush the grass of her hands and mount the horse. Tristan didn't move to stop her until he noticed the wound on her foot.

"You're bleeding," he said, sitting up with a pained expression on his face. "You can't ride with bare feet."

"I'll be fine," Rory said in a steady voice. The cut had begun to throb, and her eyes were smarting. She pressed her heels lightly into the horse's side and took off, without a second glance at the king.

* * * * *

Tristan stared after the brown haired thief. She must have been crazy, to try a trick like that. And yet he was deeply impressed. That was definitely the type of stuff he needed to defend himself against Marcus.

Tristan heard the Duke's carriage rattle up behind him. The Duke gently murmured something to the horses, and they slowed down. The Duke's grandfather had been a horse whisperer, and had taught the Duke a few tricks when he had been a little boy. Tristan was convinced that the Duke was a horse whisperer too, but never said anything. People were scared of anything slightly mystical or out of the ordinary, and the Duke would lose his position as a noble if he were found out.

Tristan shakily got to his feet. "What took you so long?" he asked, combing the grass out of his hair.

"I was enjoying the fine view," the Duke grinned, giving Tristan a hand and helping him up onto the carriage.

"Sure, sure," Tristan said. "You just liked seeing me fail miserably."

"It's my favourite past time," the Duke admitted, picking a piece of grass of his red velvet suit. "You're malting on me," he noted.

"Good." Tristan clapped his hands together and shook his head, spraying more grass on the annoyed Duke. "Now follow that horse!"

"I wouldn't have had to follow it if you hadn't fallen off it."

"I wouldn't have fallen off it if you had been around to help me."

"It always as to be my fault, doesn't it," the Duke said bitterly.

* * * * *

Rory slowed the horse down to a trot as she closed in on Luke's hut. Now that she was here all she wanted to do was to turn back, but she was too exhausted to ride any further, and her foot was throbbing. The cut didn't look infected, but it was deep and she needed to bandage it up. As much as she didn't want to, she was going to have to go inside, and face the gang – including Jess.

Lowering herself to the ground gingerly, she limped over to the door of Luke's hut. It was slightly open, and Rory caught a glimpse of light and heard small snatches of conversation. With a shaking hand, she knocked on the door, and then pushed it aside.

"Rory!" Mitch had been speaking seriously to Richard and Luke, but he got up immediately and went to Rory as soon as she walked into the hut. "You're safe."

"We were so worried," Richard said, also getting up. "When you ran off, Mitch went out to search for you but he couldn't find you anywhere. We thought you'd done a runner and left us."

"I would never leave you guys. You're all my friends. I just didn't think I could handle…" Rory looked away.

"Handle what?" Richard asked.

"Handle being in the same room with Jess." Rory said quietly, focusing on a brown smudge on the floor. "Where is he? Is he okay?"

Richard and Mitch said nothing, but simply moved aside to reveal a bandaged, dark-haired figure lying stiffly on Luke's table. Blood was dripping steadily to the ground, making patterns in the dust.

"The Patty healer tried," Richard said in a soft voice. "Really, she did, but it was too late. He's not gone yet but he soon will be, or so she says."

A figure moved in the dim light of Luke's bedroom, but no one paid any attention to it.

"I feel so guilty." Rory was saying. She swallowed hard, trying to hold back tears.

"Now Rory," Mitch placed a firm hand on her shoulder and cleared his throat. He was not used to consoling people and wasn't exactly sure of what to say. "It wasn't your fault."

"Wasn't it?" Rory's voice rose. "I was the one who challenged him, I was the one who dropped the sword. It was all my fault. There's no other way of looking at it."

"Oh yes there is," Mitch sighed, and looked at Rory apologetically. "I was the one who asked Jess to switch swords with you. It was my fault."

"You did what?"

"I didn't think it was very fair, you know," Mitch said. "That you had to duel with my heavy sword when you'd never had any practise at all. Jess' sword seemed more your size so I asked him to swap with you. I had no idea the sword was faulty. But still, if I hadn't had asked Jess to swap swords, he wouldn't have been injured."

"But Mitch," Rory suddenly grabbed his rough hand and held it tight in hers. "If you hadn't told him to switch his sword, I might've been the one hurt! You saved me! It's not your fault … it's mine. I was stupid enough to drop the sword. Jess would never have done something like that."

"You had no idea the sword was going to do that." Richard argued, closing the door behind her and then going to stand by Mitch. "You thought that the sword was perfectly normal. Normal swords don't just spring out of their hilts, you know. It definitely wasn't your fault. It was no one's fault. It was just the luck of the draw…"

"You're wrong," a hoarse voice cut in. It was Luke. "I knew that the sword was broken. It was my old sword. I fixed it up a long time ago, but the adjustments I made weren't permanent. I knew that one day that sword was going to break..."

"Oh Luke, it's not your fault," Rory said gently, but Luke shook his head. His cheeks were flushed and his voice was shaking.

"It is my fault. I should've have let anyone duel with that sword. It's my fault that Jess is where he is. It's my fault that Jess is dead."

Silence fell like a thick blanket over the four, as Luke's last sentence sunk in. No one dared to move. No one dared to breathe.

"I…I'm not dead yet," said a weak voice suddenly, breaking the grave silence. "Don't ge…get all your hopes up…"

"Jess!" Rory shoved past the stunned Mitch and Richard, and half ran, half limped to the table Jess was lying on. "Jess! You're still alive!"

"W-well of…of course I am…" Jess tried to smile, but didn't quite succeed. "You can't get rid of me that easily."

"I'm so sorry," Rory told him, smoothing the hair away from his face. She noticed that his cheeks were icy cold, and she felt fear grip her stomach. "Oh Jess!" Rory broke down then and there. She couldn't help but let the tears fall. She turned to run away.

"Wait…" Jess said. He wanted to reach out and grab her hand to stop her from leaving, but the pain was too much. It was a searing coal in the pit of his stomach, hot and burning, tormenting his insides. There was no way he would be able to move, not even for her. It was all he could do to talk.

"I want to go," Rory's eyes were rimmed with red. Her tears fell silently, painfully. "I can't do this."

"Please stay here with me…" Jess turned his head painfully to the side. It was torture to move. "Don't go…" He was cut of by a violent coughing fit.

"This is all my fault," Rory whispered, and slowly kneeled down next to the table, so that her face was next to his.

"No, it's my fault," Mitch cut in. "I shouldn't have asked you to switch swords…"

"No, it's my fault," Luke said. "I should have stopped you when I had the chance. I should've told you before hand…"

"Luke, it's not your fault either," Jess said slowly. All this talking was making him tired. "If anyone's to blame it' s - "

"It's definitely not your fault, Jess!" Rory interrupted, standing up quickly and looking at Jess in disbelief. "You of all people shouldn' t –"

"I didn't mean me!" Jess said in a loud, exasperated voice. Rory fell silent immediately. "Ow! That hurt. Anyway, I think that p-peasant filth vegetable boy is to bla…blame. If he hadn't pushed Rory, none of this would have hap…happened…"

"It can't be Dean's fault," Rory said quickly, jumping to Dean's defence. "He didn't know what was going on! He thought I was in trou –"

"Peasant filth?" An angry voice exclaimed, cutting Rory off. "Vegetable boy? Who do you think you are, you…you vermin!"

"Dean!" Rory spun around quickly, caught off guard. Dean was standing in the doorway of Luke's bedroom. "What are you doing here?" She asked, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand.

"Come in here, Rory," Dean beckoned, and Rory obliged, limping a little. The thick, musty curtains in Luke's bedroom were tightly closed, letting only a fraction of light seep through the material onto two still bodies – Jon and Charles. Rory involuntarily shuddered as she saw the two stumps of Charles legs, and faced Dean instead.

"What are you doing here?" she repeated.

"I was worried about you…" Dean lowered his voice. "When the others couldn't find you … I thought I'd better stick around in case you showed up."

"Dean…"

"Just let me get this out. Rory, I'm sorry about the things I said back there. And I'm sorry about your friend. I didn't mean what I said about you. I just … wanted to apologise."

'What's Rory doing in there?' Jess thought. He couldn't see what was going on very well from the position he was in, but he could hear the voices. 'I'm the one with the knife wound in my stomach and yet she's over there chatting to fruit-kid. Hmm…'

"Ah, shit!" Jess yelled loudly. Rory was by his side in an instant.

"What is it?" she asked him, laying a delicate hand over his.

"It's…it's nothing. I'm fine now." Jess grimaced, trying to look brave. "I'll be all right…"

"Are you sure?" she asked him with wide eyes.

"Yeah…" he said, smiling softly. He took satisfaction in seeing Dean's angry face out of the corner of his eye. 'Score one for me…'he thought.

"Good," Rory gave him one last glance, and then went back over to Dean. "What were you saying?" he heard her say.

'Damn!'

"I wanted to … hey, what happened to your foot?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Rory said absent mindedly.

Richard came over to where Rory was, and knelt down to inspect the wound on her foot. "It doesn't look like nothing," he said grimly. "You'll need it done up. Luke, do you have any bandages?"

"No, we used them all on Jess," Luke walked into his room, which was getting a little crowded by then. Rory limped back into the main room, followed by Dean. "I've got some shirts though…"

"Are they clean?" Richard asked, kneeling down to check Rory's cut again.

"Um…I think so," Luke answered dubiously, bringing several folded shirts back into the main room. He lay them beside Richard. "That's an oddly shaped cut," he commented. "What happened?"

"I got it when I tried to mount a horse with bare feet," Rory said, wincing as Richard wrapped the soft fabric around her cut. "Ouch, that stings…"

"What horse?" Mitch sat down on the ground, leaning against a wall of Luke's hut. "When was this?"

"About awhile ago, when I was coming here," Rory answered. "A rider was chasing me on a white horse. I tried to slow the horse down and knock him off it, but the metal cut into my foot."

"Who was the rider?" Jess asked.

Rory took a breath. "It was the king."

"What!" Richard exclaimed. Mitch jumped to his feet immediately, opened the door and went outside. Jess swore under his breath. "Did he follow you here?"

"I…I have no idea," Rory admitted. "I only thought about getting away."

"Any thoughts about why he was chasing you?" Luke asked. Rory, Mitch and Richard all stopped what they were doing and stared at Luke. "What? What did I say?"

"S-sure we…we tried t-to steal the crown jewels…but…but that's no reason why anyone would b…be after us," Jess managed to get out.

"You what!" Luke shouted, and fixed Jess with an accusing stare. "You never told me that!"

If Jess could've shrugged he would have. "What d-did you expect?"

Mitch came back it, observed the uncle and nephew that were bickering, and cleared his throat loudly. "They're coming."

"How many are there?" Richard made sure the bandage around Rory's foot was secure before straightening up.

"There's a carriage drawn by four horses, held by two men. One of the men is definitely the king, but the other I don't recognise. He is short, fat, and his wearing a suit of red velvet." Mitch paused for a moment. "He looks kind of familiar. The carriage is about a mile off. We can take them."

Richard unsheathed his sword and nodded. "Let's do it."

"Wait!" Rory said. A strange feeling had come over her, like she was forgetting something important. "Maybe we should hear the king out. Ask him what he wants. Maybe this can be solved without violence. I mean, we're already in enough trouble without adding 'assassins' to our list of occupations."

"Fine," Mitch grunted. "But if any one of them lay a hand of the hilt of their swords…"

"…they're goners," Rory concluded.

The atmosphere in Luke's small hut was tense. Mitch was pacing back and forth in the enclosed space, his hand tight on the hilt of his sword. Richard was standing with his arms crossed, facing the door, his muscles bulging. His face was grim. Luke had started up a conversation with Dean, and they were both talking in quiet voices. Rory was at Jess' side, dabbing the sweat off his face with one of Luke's old shirts.

Soon enough, there was a telltale knock on the door. Rory, Mitch and Richard were on their feet in an instant. "Open this door at once! King's orders," a muffled voice called out through the dissipated wood of the door. Mitch made as if to open the door, but Luke stopped him.

"I'll get it," he said. "It's my land, after all."

Mitch stepped aside, and allowed Luke to open the door. Outside was the velvety fat man, with a cross expression on his face. "It's about time," he complained. Suddenly Rory remembered why he seemed so familiar. He was the Duke that talked to her the previous night! Rory wondered why she didn't recognise him sooner. 'He looks a lot more stressed' she noticed.

Behind the Duke stood the King. His face was cold and expressionless, still dressed in his black riding gear, with his hood drawn back. Rory noticed with some satisfaction a grass smear on his left knee. That grass smear calmed her down slightly. So he wasn't perfect after all.

"What do you want?" Luke asked, seemingly undaunted by the king's presence. "It is a strange hour to be calling in, don't you think?"

"We want to talk to the thieves," the Duke said. "Now."

"Thieves?" Luke shrugged casually. Rory recognised that shrug as the shrug Jess did when he was caught and asked to explain himself. She smiled.

"Yes, thieves," the Duke said firmly, trying to peek behind Luke's tall frame to what was inside the hut.

"Aha, thieves." Luke nodded. "What kind of thieves, exactly?"

"We both know what my friend here is talking about," the King spoke up. His voice rang out clear and confident. "So please, cooperate."

"Certainly." Rory couldn't tell if Luke was being sarcastic or not.

"We want to see the leader of the thieves," the King continued. "We have a proposition we would like to put forth."

Rory felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. Proposition? Where had she heard that before? "That isn't possible," Luke was saying. "The leader of the thieves is injured. He isn't well enough to see anyone."

"Well, how about a representative? Would that be okay?" The King had a bite of impatience in his voice.

"I'll have to ask," Luke said, and closed the door gently.

"I'll go," Rory said as soon as Luke turned around. "It's my fault that they found us, so I'll just go straighten things out."

"No, it's too dangerous Rory," Mitch said. Richard nodded. "Let one of us go. We can defend ourselves better than you."

"Says who?" Rory put her hands on her hips and gave Richard and Mitch a hard stare. "Just because I'm a girl? I know how to defend myself just as well as you do. Or are you implying that you two are tougher than me?"

"Uh…" Richard hid a smile behind his hand, and Mitch turned his chuckle into a cough. "Of course not."

"So I can go?"

Richard and Mitch looked at Rory seriously. "Okay, but you have to be careful."

"Don't worry. I will be."

Author's Note: How did that go? Not to bad, I hope. Next chapter coming really soon! I'm on holidays at the moment, so I'm going to try and get out as many chapters as I can before the iron hand of education recommences. =S.