Aramis didn't know how long he and Athos had been running for, but he was astounded at the sheer size of the forest as the two of them made their way round yet another corner, only to find themselves facing a patch of forest that looked exactly the same as the wooded area they had only just left.

'You don't...think...we're going around in cir-circles?'Athos muttered as they finally slowed, before he sighed in pain and pressed a shaky hand to his side.

'I hope not,' was all the medic could reply as he quickly came to his friend's side and gently moved his hand to look at the wound. 'This needs stitching as soon as possible...' he muttered, more to himself than the man beside him. 'And the blade has to come out,' he added, worry piquing in his chest again.

'Can't y-you do it?' Athos asked, before he gently fell to his knees onto the soft, muddy grass to get a bit more comfortable; each step was like walking on fire. The rain was now more of a misty cloud, but it still soaked them to the bone; both men now had chattering teeth and red-tinged, raw skin from where they had been running against the wind.

Aramis crouched down and carefully inspected the knife, which was still packed tight with the bandage. The material was stiff and soaked in scarlet, but Aramis dared not remove it. He had nothing to replace it with.

'If I take it out you'll bleed to death in an hour, maybe two...' he warned, sitting back and wiping his hair from his forehead.

'But if you don't, I'll only slow us down, and we will certainly get caught within an hour, maybe two..'. Athos retorted, his face hard. 'If I have better movement perhaps I could run faster.'

'You will not have better movement- you'll get weaker and weaker until you finally drop down stone dead.' Aramis muttered, shaking his head. 'I won't do it.'

'I will, then.'

'Athos do-'

'Aramis, listen to me- you need to get help. You need to find D'artagnan and Porthos-'

'I'm not leaving you, you idiot!' Aramis snapped, his heart beating faster as he looked across at his friend. 'Don't speak like that!'

Athos sat back, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. 'I'm only being rational.' He muttered, shivering.

'Is that what you call it?' Aramis snorted. 'I call it stupidity.' He sat on the muddy ground and crossed his legs; both men sat in a silence for a few minutes. 'We've evaded them for a while so far,' Aramis eventually said, a note of hope in his voice. 'We just need to stay low and quiet and keep pushing forwards...we'll come out of this blasted forest soon enough.'

'Not if we're going round in circles.' Athos pointed out, before he clasped on to Aramis' forearm to help heave himself to his feet. He closed his eyes against the pain as it flourished in his side- he didn't know how long he could keep going for, but he knew he had to do it somehow.

He looked around and spotted a large rock in a ditch by an oak tree; he stepped towards it and gingerly bent down to pick it up- he groaned with exertion as he carefully hoisted it to his chest and turned around again, before making his way back to Aramis.

'What on earth are you doing?' the medic asked, grasping the rock to take some of the weight.

'Making a m-marker...' Athos replied through gritted teeth. 'Drop it down here,' he instructed- the rock splattered to the muddy ground with a squelch.

'At least this way we can see if we've been here before,'

'Good idea,' Aramis nodded with a smile, before looking up at they heard a large crack of wood from behind them.

'We need to find a road,' he muttered as they picked a route. The trees were more eveningly spread around this part of the forest- it was as if the woods were made of vast areas of different species of tree. 'Let's go,' he added, and the two of them began walking back into the copse of woodland, their eyes swivelling around at every hoot of an owl, every crack of a branch, every blast of eerie wind.

The house was quiet now the men-folk had left for the night. Ella sat in her rocking chair looking out of the window at the stormy night outside, pushing the thought of what was happening out in the rain out of her mind as best she could. She softly stroked the dozing ginger cat on her lap, her wrinkled, aged hands carefully running up and down his back like a pattern as her old heart beat anxiously against her chest.

The rain pattered onto the window frame, and every so often she could see her own face, wrought with fear, illuminated in the glass as lightening flashed.

As the thunder rolled over the hills she curled her legs up in the blanket, shivering despite the heat and crackle of the fire in front of her.

She hated these nights- the days and nights leading up to the hunts were full of terror and uncertainty; she cast her mind back to that day, years and years ago, when she had been a young woman- her life full of promise, of innocence, and then it had all changed.

She had been close to her younger brother, Jack. She was older by three years and the two of them had had a lot of fun together in their small village. One day- she could have been no more than sixteen, she guessed- she and her brother had spent a happy morning collecting firewood, and decided to go home using a short cut through the same woods those poor Musketeers were now running for their lives in.

They hadn't been worried as the woods pressed in on them, but as the hours passed and they got more hopelessly lost, Jack had offered to split up so they could find the way home quicker. She had barely chance to open her mouth to disagree when they had been ambushed by four men in dirty clothes.

They had taken them to the large house she sat in now. She pushed the images and memories of the first three days out her mind; the pain was ever present, even all these years later.

She caught her breath as a small sob threatened to escape her- Robert was in the next room, and if he knew she was still awake she'd be in for a beating, she knew.

With this in mind, she retired to her small bed in the corner of the room- her cat quickly curled up on her stomach as she lay propped on her pillows, eyes fixed on the crackling hearth on the other side of the room as her mind returned to the night her world changed forever.

Her brother had been so brave, protecting her from the horrors ,comforting her when he had been beaten into unconsciousness trying to stop the men, plotting their escape with her whilst they were chained in the cold barn, but whilst they had their uses of her- as was the horror of any captive woman- he soon became expendable.

The night they took him and 'released him' was seared in her memory- she let the silent tears flow now, her bottom lip wavering as she stroked the cat's fur whilst trying to regain her composure.

They had beaten him before letting him go; she could still see his poor bruised face in the moonlight, his eyes alight with fear. 'I'll come back for you!' he had promised as he was forced out of the door at gunpoint.

Mere minutes later there was a series of shots in the night- she had screamed and struggled against the laughing and jeering men, but there was nothing she could do. Then came the dawning realisation that she would never be afforded the same chance her brother had been given...

Now, all these years later, she knew well enough they were never going to let her leave.

She gave the men that met their end here her compassion- as much as she could give whilst under the watchful eye of Robert, the man who had forced her to be with through the years-

She had stitched up the young, brown-haired Musketeer- he had looked at her with fear, something that broke her heart. She smiled, though, as she cast her mind back- he had reminded her strongly of Jack, so much so she almost believed he had been brought back to her. She treated him with love, had even apologised for what was happening around him.

She hated herself for not being able to save him, to lead him to the back door and show him the road out. Maybe she could have, if she hadn't been so scared. Maybe she should have ignored her fears, and they could both have been free.

She sighed, tears stinging her eyes, before leaning over and blowing the candle out, enveloping herself in darkness.

She had tried to offer Jed, her son who,despite his conception, she loved with all her heart, a way to make something of himself. She had made the red coat over a summer, dying the leather and stitching it painstakingly together- he wore it everyday, and each time she saw him in it her heart swelled with pride.

He had ended up, of course, taking his Father's path in life, something she would never forgive Robert for, above everything he had ever done to her. To see her son gloat, jeer and enjoy the suffering of others made her want to vomit; she could only hope he would, one day, see the wrongness and evilness of his actions. She would be there when he did, she promised herself. She couldn't let her family suffer the way she had.

She tensed as she heard bootfalls outside her door- thankfully they marched down the corridor and out the back door; lying back in her blankets she knew she would not sleep tonight. Instead she stared into the fire, wondering what was happening out in the darkness and rain.

Aramis was loathe to admit it, but he was becoming more and more convinced with each corner they turned and each tree they passed- they were well and truly lost.

It was as if the world had turned to forest; he just could not understand how they had not seen a road or a path...even a dirt road for carts could not be seen.

He looked up- the stars shone brightly, but the moon was obscured by cloud. A coldness washed over him again.

They had started by walking as fast as Athos' injury would allow- that had served them well for a while as they tried to find a path or a house.

Not long after they had begun they heard a gunshot from somewhere in the forest behind them. Not wanting to wait to find out how close the men were behind them Aramis had lunged for Athos and taken most of his weight before running back into the thick copse of trees, moving as fast as they could.

Now they had slowed to a walk again- Athos was now almost wholly relying on Aramis to move, and the medic could see fresh blood seeping from the wound.

'A...Mis...' he heard Athos breathe out beside him. He turned just in time to see his friend finally buckle and fall to the ground- he caught him before he hit the mud and gently laid him down, eyebrows creased together in concern.

'It's alright, just rest for a second..' he muttered, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. He looked up as a gunshot boomed across the sky, sending birds scattering into the air.

'Athos we need to go, we-'

'Go...w-without me...' Athos' voice hitched. He pressed a shaky hand to his wound.

'I won't do it!' Aramis growled, fingers curling into Athos' borrowed coat. 'I won't.'

'I w-won't make it... you know th-that..'

'Don't be stupid, of course you'll make it, I-' both men stopped and turned as they heard shouts and jeering. Aramis turned back round, his face hard and determined. 'All for one and one for all, remember?' he whispered, before he stood up and and grasped Atho's under the arms.

'Aramis wh-'

'Shh...' Aramis hushed, before standing next to his head and pulling hard- he pulled Athos into the dense undergrowth. After gently placing Athos behind a tree he pulled some bracken and branches over him. 'Stay here, and stay silent, alright?' he instructed. 'Don't come out no matter what you hear, promise?'

'Aramis-'

'Promise me'

'P-Promise.'

'Good. Now I won't be long,' Aramis said with a small smile, before walking off, leaving Athos alone.

Aramis crouched behind a large tree and waited. After a few seconds he found what he was looking for- three men were sauntering down the grassy path between trees that he and Athos had just been on. One man carried a gun, one carried a knife and the other had a large axe in his arms- Aramis waited for them to pass him, completely unaware that he was there. The men were talking in hushed tones, their faces flecked with mud; seconds later, Aramis made his move.

He targeted the man with the gun first- using the knife he thrust it into the man's side, before swinging him around and throwing him, already dead, into the bushes to his side.

The man with the axe turned round, roaring in anger, and raised the weapon above his head- Aramis ducked the blow and pushed the man hard in the chest, watching him tumble over onto the muddy ground, unconcious.

The man with the knife was quicker at reacting- the two men, each armed with a knife, circled each other as the rain started hammering down again.

'Come on then!' the man yelled, a horrible grin on his face. 'You think you can take me?!'

'I do not think, I know!' Aramis retorted, face set in a snarl.

'Come on then, musketeer!' the man taunted, before he ran at Aramis- the medic stepped backwards, slashing the man in the chest as he passed. The other man, however, knew some tricks of his own- as he passed Aramis he brought the knife up, catching him in the cheek.

Aramis reeled back, a hand flashing to his face- the other man took this opportunity to counter-attach; he grasped Aramis around the waist and flung him to the side, sending him off balance and onto one knee. A swift punch to the side of the head and Aramis fell hard to the muddy ground; he looked up as he desperately tried to struggle back to his feet- the man was above him, knife raised above his head ready to give the killer blow.

Before the musketeer could react there was a large bang and the man was flung backwards in a flash of scarlet, leaving the scene in silence.

Aramis looked round, a grin spreading across his face as he Athos sprawled next to the dead man who had had the gun, the weapon in his hand.

'Don't c-come out...' Athos recited as Armais scrambled up and helped him to his feet. 'No ma-matter what you h-hear, hmmm?'

'Alright, perhaps that was a bit foolish of me,' Armais muttered as they started walking again.

'P-perhaps?' Athos asked, eyebrow quirked.

'Alright, it was foolish of me...'the other man chuckled, nodding. 'Thank you,'

'Don't be st-stupid...' Athos muttered, shaking his head.

They turned yet another corner, expecting to see yet another dense, thick patch of woodland. What the men got, to their total, inexplicable surprise, was a view of a spectacular lake.

'Wow,' Aramis breathed, relieved it wasn't yet more woods.

Athos, however, tapped him on the chest, nodding to their left when Aramis gave him a questioning look.

They had come out at the bank of the river, and the medic's heart soared as he saw a small wooden house just through the bushes to their left, still quite a way away, but close enough to make out the features. The chimney was billowing smoke despite the late hour.

Just as they were about to step towards it they heard shouts from a little further ahead- they turned and saw a man yelling and waving at a large, stumbling figure.

'Is that...?' Athos breathed.

'Porthos,' Aramis replied, relief swamping him.

'Where's d'artagnan?'

'He's..' Aramis squinted at the scene- Porthos was talking to the man, who was pointing at the house; Aramis could now see a woman at the window, but could make out nothing else. 'He's on Porthos' back. He must be injured.'

'Damn it,'

'No this is good, we know where they are now! Come on!' he replied, and together the two of them began slowly making their way towards the house. They could only hope the man and woman who had given refuge to Porthos and D'artagnan were friendly...

Nearly together again! But lots more still to come!

Thanks for reading, hope you liked it!

Please review!

X