The Hessian awoke with a start, causing pan to shoot through his frost-bitten limbs. The darkness surrounded him, encasing his frozen and aching body like a thick blanket that offered no warmth. The ground beneath him was loose and rich, as though feet were continuously churning it, the smell of moist earth and rotting leaves and vegetation invading his nostrils. His pale face wrinkled into distaste, but it was warmer air, and anything was better than the viciously cold air beyond the cove's opening beneath the giant tree under which's twisting roots and branches he hid.
He tried to move again, and his body rebelled viciously, shooting screaming pain through his spine and joints. He breathed in harsh growls, baring his pointed teeth and fighting not to scream for the pain that resounded through his body. When the agony subsided, he moved methodically, slowly bending toes, then fingers, then individual limbs, slowly warming his body as best he could.
After what seemed like an eternity, he was able to sit up with an extreme effort, and not without a sharp cry of pain. Now warmed as much as possible in his current position, he listened intently for any sound around him. First, he listened intently outside for any sign that the soilders still searched the area- he had no clue how long he had been fainted, nor how intent the commanding officer would be upon finding him. Knowing how much he was wanted, he was willing to bet said officer was quite intent upon it. Despite this, no noise rung outside, no soldiers shouting ;back and forth, no pounding of running feet. Total silence. He glared out into the moon-lit opening, his sharp steel grey eyes searching for any sign that they stood post, waiting for him in the night.
"They left some time ago."
The Hessian jerked, towards the little voice, startled, but not frightened. He had known she was there, of course, but she had been cataloged among the things he had already known were there. She was as much a threat to him as a little squirrel might be. But she had not spoken until then, and he had not expected her too. He was a rather fearsome looking man, and he had made himself thus to intimidate his enemy with his sharply filed teeth, his wild naturally silver-tinted hair, and his large, powerful build. Any man would be frightened stiff to sit within such an inclosed space with him. And yet this girl was not afraid to speak to him, however softly.
"They searched for a while, but then moved on. They thought you had gone farther."
He gazed at her with his cutting flint-shaded eyes, taking her in and measuring her anew. She had been brave to hide him from the English soldiers, and braver still to stay with him. She was a tiny thing, hidden in shadow for the most part, though her fine blond hair and pale pink dress stood out in the moonlight, however soiled with dirt. The soft colors of her person made her appear frail, easy to break at a touch. One of her small hands played with her light hair locks that fell about her shoulders like a soft down of golden snow, twisting it about her finger idly, but not nervously. From behind her innocent features of a soft, round face, fine boned and bloomed early in beauty, gazed eyes of startling intensity that shone brighly in the lunar light. She clearly did not completely understand the situation, otherwise, she would not call the soldiers 'they' continuously. She was looking for answers, her intelligent eyes searching. The Hessian slitted his eyes at her, unsure of how to deal with this child. He had little experience with children, let alone ones such as this. He hated the little mongrols, always tittering about shrieking and getting into things, obnoxious creatures that they were. But this one was different. So was her sister. The other girl had a dangerous, deadly look in her eyes that had told him that she would have enjoyed watching his beheading. His pointed teeth bared in somewhat of a sick semblance of a smile. He had been such a child. The girl would have made a good Hessian, had she not been female. Otherwise she would have made a fantastic noblewoman of ambitious quality. Cleary, however, both girls had been born to a middle class, and never did any rise from the class they were born, neither in his home country of Germany, nor any other country which he had been hired out to. The girl smiled back mildly, unaffected by his gruesome teeth, and said nothing more. He continued to gaze at her for a moment, fancinated by this little thing that was not quite the vicious, daring character of her sister, but was nonetheless a vision of quality and spirit, quiet though she may have be. She shifted slightly, and something glittered in her lap which the lack of light had hidden from him before.
He hissed and reached forward in a movement in likeness to a quick wolf, snatching his dragon headed sword from her and attaching it to his belt, glaring at her. He was less vengeful towards her than himself. He was a finely tuned warrior and tracker. His sword never left his side for any reason, and to have it have been taken by a mere child bruised his blood-soaked ego. The girl made no move to keep the sword from him, nor did she make any advancement to hand it to him, her intelligent orbs understanding in that either would have angered him more. At the very least she was able to recognize a man that was easily tipped into a vicious anger. He had not yet been known to kill a child, but his sword dripped with the blood of too many to matter if one girl was added to his head count. But she had not done either, and so she remained safe. For now. And she recognized that. He could see it in her eyes.
"Can you speak?"
The Hessian growled in answer as he latched the final buckle of his belt. He rarely spoke unless he was urging his horse forward, and even then it was only in the most dire of needs. His stomach clenched painfully at the thought of his horse, Dare Devil. The steed was a magnificent one of prowess and grace, ultimately obedient. Until tonight. He had asked the singular horse too far, too fast, and the creature had opted for self preservation. He could not blame the horse for that, but he would miss his fine companion. If he had one friend in this world, it was Dare Devil . He chose to ignore what he knew the horse's fate to be what with saddle and bridle still upon it's body, and bit still within it's mouth. The steed would starve to death, and at this point there was little to no chance of finding him. He clenched his pointed teeth, feeling their ends prick his gums, allowing the small pain to cover his horse's hoof prints in him mind.
He did not answer the girl, giving her with a silent glare. He had gone through the majordy of his life without the need to speak, having an odd ability to convey his emotions and thoughts through his flint-sharp eyes. She nodded and began to move quietly, deliberately, standing in the small cove beneath the giant, twisting tree. She beckoned, now equally as silent the Hessian, and walked out of the hiding place. The Hessian, tall as he was, was forced to a debilitating crawl before he could stretch out, standing in the biting winter night air. His joints ached from restricted motion, but they no longer screamed in agony with every movement. A crunch of snow sounded with a startled snort, and the Hessian twisted around, expecting soldiers to surround him, hate for the girl seething instantly within him, and snatched the little traitor up, drawing his sword and pressing it to her neck. If they wanted his head, then they would have the girl's blood on their hands as well. He had nothing against killing the girl, but any normal soldier would balk, and it was his only hope.
The girl beneath him breathed more heavily than before, but otherwise did not reat, allowing him to take her hostage before speaking as he glared about the woods surrounding them, piercing the spaces between trees with his eyes to find the hiding soldiers. Where were they, and why did they not show themselves?
"Your horse is tied behind the tree," the child said quietly. "There are no soldiers here."
The Hessian looked down at her sharply, trying to decide just how trust worthy she was. She had saved his life, and she knew he could kill her instantly if he wished to do so. Perhaps she spoke truth. Not daring to trust- trust was death- he dragged her along with him, lifting her easily by the midriff, his sword still tempted to taste her blood against her throat.
As he rounded the corner, he dropped her with little ceromony and sheathed his sword in one swift motion, a great relief flooding him as his eyes took in
Dare Devil. He strode forward with his powerful stride through the snow towards his magnificent steed, whose head and raised high, his ears pricked, and nickered softly to his rider. The Hessian placed a hand upon the stallion's powerful, sweat-dried neck, stroking his straight, regal nose. Dare Devil curved his neck to nip lightly at the Hessian's cape, the air about his large nostrils misting and yreheryhe snuffed in his master's scent.
" Forgive me, old friend," the Hessian whispered in the horse's ear, hardly audible.
"So you can speak." Apparently still audible, then, if only barely. The Hessian ignored the frustrating child and loosed the knot that held his horse. Flipping the reins over the horse's mighty neck, he made to mount, placing his foot within the iron that hung from his saddle. Dare Devil flinched and sidled away, tossing his head. The Hessian growled in uncertaintanty.
"He's lame."
The Hessian hissed and looked back at the girl. Her face was emotionless, almost bored. Twisting about, he led te horse forward, watching it's usually smooth, land eating stride. The horse two steps forward and faltered, lifting his right for leg to hang uselessly in the air.
"He cannot be ridden. You will be lucky if he can walk unmounted."
The Hessian said nothing, but cursed violently within his frightening head. The damned child was right. Dare Devil had never had a lame day of his life under the Hessian's careful care, but that slip on the ice had finally done the invincible steed in.
"He won't be going anywhere soon."
The Hessian glared darts of hate towards the girl. He could not ask Dare Devil to push the bad leg until it was at least partially healed. Yet still, he could not stay where he was for the soldiers to return and slaughter him.
"They won't return. These are the Western Woods. There are many strange things here. Things brave men will not face." The Hessian glanced out farther into the snow-covered woods, his eyes narrowing. There was not but dead trees and shadows. He looked once more to his annoying companion. And odd girls as well, apparently. "I can hide you. But you must promise not give away this hiding place."