Ruan awoke from a dreamless sleep to stiff limbs and aching muscles, rose from his bunk and walked over to the thin window. The other seven knights of Ruan's detail were still asleep in the makeshift barracks room. Their shift would not begin until mid morning. Today their duty would be to patrol the camp. It would have been a relief to the body after a day on construction, though more taxing on the mind. Ruan had little experience of digging ditches and felling wood, and he had been surprised at how satisfying it was. Certainly he preferred it to the circuitous trudge around the refugee camp where he became the faceless image of menace and, at times, protection. If the rest of his detail were lucky, their day in the camp would merely be one of interminable boredom, but only if they managed not to look too hard at the lives of those around them. He felt a pang of guilt that he was escaping from that for a while.

An adjoining room had become their armoury, and Ruan went there to put on his armour. This morning, however, he also put on the scarlet and blue tabard under his breastplate, and the sash around his waist; highly impractical if he had been patrolling the muddy camp, but essential for his role today. Once dressed, he made his way out into the morning sun.

The Chantry complex was perched high on the peak of the rocky island and he had to the climb down along rough, spiralling stairs that had been cut from the natural stone. The hill was almost sheer on the seaward side and below him the waves were breaking over rocks dotted with the mottled shapes of basking seals. There was another cluster of buildings on the landward side of the island beside a walled harbour. It was low tide, and the harbour was just an expanse of brown sands and beached boats.

Beside the harbour he found the stables. Tamsyn and Conrad were already waiting there for him. Conrad was dressed in a fine embroidered doublet bearing his family crest, a boar and crossed spears. Tamsyn, too, was in her full regalia. She looked Ruan over. "Well, you look almost presentable without the mud." she commented, "Have you eaten anything this morning?" she asked. Ruan could hear their mother's clip in her voice.

"There wasn't any time." he replied.

She pulled a bread roll from her surplice and threw it at him. He managed to catch it in front his face and bowed to her. "Thank you, Sister."

The lay brothers who worked the stable were tacking six of the small, sturdy horses that belonged to the island community. Ser Roslinn was standing at the entrance to the stables, arms folded, watching them work with a sceptical frown. "You know horses, don't you, Trevelyan? What do you make of these ponies?"

Ruan walked closer and looked the little horses over. They had shaggy coats and short, strong legs, a breed much used by the hill farmers of Ferelden. They were a far cry from the elegant palfries and coursers bred on the Trevelyan estates, or the big Orlesian destriers prized by chevaliers. "They're hobbies, yes?" he asked the stable hand, who nodded in reply. Ruan turned back to Roslinn. "They're bred for stamina; don't need a lot of feed; nimble tread; good on slopes and woods."

Ser Roslinn grunted in acknowledgement. "That's something, I suppose. What about their speed?"

"Out here?" Ruan replied, "We won't need speed. Stick to rough country and we'll outlast anyone on a big cavalry animal."

Ser Roslinn turned to face him for the first time and raised her eyebrow, "Still avoiding the inconvenient questions, Trevelyan?"

Ruan opened his mouth to reply, but before he could decide what to say she had turned away and strode over to Tamsyn. "Are you sure that you won't allow me to bring a stronger escort along with us, Sister?"

Tamsyn shook her head, "If it were up to me, Knight-Captain, I wouldn't be taking the knights we already are, and I still think that you should stay."

"Ser Maes knows his duty, ma'am," Ser Roslinn replied, implacable, "I have given instructions that he can draft more of the refugees for the construction work."

Tamsyn sighed, "Very well." and walked over to a chestnut hobby and stroked her mane, "What's her name?" she asked the stable hand.

"That's Moire, Sister." he replied.

"Moire…" Tamsyn said aloud. Ruan noted that she had gone straight to the tallest and strongest looking horse. She deftly swung herself up into the saddle and clicked her tongue, walking Moire out of the stables.

"I am aware that Fereldans are fond of dogs but I didn't know that they rode them as well." said Conrad as he looked Moire up and down. Ruan had been reminded of a few jokes he had heard during his time in Orlais, but he decided that it was best not to repeat them.

"Don't be so precious." Tamsyn chided Conrad and stroked the mare's neck, "Don't listen to the bad man, darling… Come on, your lordship, you know better than to insult a lady before you take her out. You're better at pretending to be charming than that." Conrad gave her a sour look and Tamsyn smirked

"With your permission, Ser Roslinn, I would like to ride up to the ridge while you wait for your knights. I shall take Brother Ruan as my escort." She waited a heartbeat for Roslinn's nod before she said "Come along, Brother." and turned Moire to walk along the harbour walls. Hurriedly, Ruan mounted a dappled grey and got her name, Gwen, from the stable-hand, before riding off to catch up with his sister.

Twin obelisks marked where the harbour wall became the causeway extending out across the bay to the mainland. Each one was carved into abstract representations of Andraste. The causeway rose almost twenty feet above the mud flats and was more than wide enough for two horses to ride alongside each other. Even at low tide there was still some deep water at its foot in the middle stretch.

"Do you and Conrad have to bicker all the time?" Ruan asked Tamsyn as Gwen trotted up alongside Moire.

Tamsyn laughed "Oh, Ruan, that's the basis of our entire relationship… Are you jealous? I will always make time to bicker with you too, little brother."

Ruan just shook his head. It was some time since he had seen her so relaxed and even longer since he had seen her on horseback. Perhaps that wasn't a coincidence.

They rode in comfortable silence as they approached the new stockade that had been built around the end of the causeway. The two obelisks of Havard had become posts for the gate. Beyond lay a path that led through the expanding camp and to low walls that had once fenced in sheep and goats belonging to the Hermitage. There the construction details were working with gangs of volunteers from the camp to dig a ditch and raise an earthwork wall around the camp's perimeter. Past that lay a straight path which rose up to the wooded ridge above.

Ruan watched the way Tamsyn sat with one hand on the reins and the other on her thigh, just like she had when they were children. "Be careful. You almost look like you remember how to ride." he teased her.

Tamsyn did her best to look scandalised. "If I was only half the rider I was I would still be better than you, little brother."

Ruan nodded at the hill. "Talk is cheap, Sister…"

"Don't be absurd. I am the Revered Mother's representative."

Ruan shrugged, "Oh well, if you aren't…"

Tamsyn had already spurred Moire into trot, and had her cantering before Ruan had followed suit. Soon they were both galloping and Ruan felt lighter than he could remember as he shortened his reins and lifted himself over the horse's neck. Tamsyn, when she turned back to check if he was gaining on her, wore a wicked grin and a brow set in determination. She must have pulled off her cap and tucked it away. Tamsyn always thought of things like that. Her wimple had fallen back and some loose, russet locks were waving behind her. The line of trees drew closer, but there was only the rhythm of his mare's gallop and the wind whipping past. In the end it was Tamsyn who reined in her horse at the ridge ahead of Ruan.

"Mine, I think!" she cried and whooped as she tossed her cap into the air. Her grin was wide and her hair was wild as she caught it and looked at Ruan triumphantly.

"You cheated," he pointed out, mildly, with a wag of his finger.

"More fool you, little brother," she said with a wink. It was the same wink she used to give him whenever she had tipped him into the pond in Mother's garden.

Conrad and the knights were still only halfway up to the ridge. Behind them the land rolled down to the sea. The cliffs arched away to the East and West to disappear into mist and sea-spray. They could almost have been back home, but for the Hermitage island standing in the bay and the makeshift village of tents and shelters clustered around its causeway. Ruan turned to look into the woods. The pines were close together and only a faint sun fought through the clouds and the boughs to light their way. These were not the well tended oak and ash woodlands where his father's tenants took their swine and gathered their firewood.

"I would feel better if we were taking more of the templars. I am not sure that just four of us are enough keep you safe." he commented.

"Would you feel better if we had to reduce the patrols in the camp or the watch on the perimeter?" Tamsyn replied, "We will send more guards if the local lords agree to send grain."

"Hmm… This was supposed to be about us sending food to Ferelden, not begging them for it."

"And we have, but the Revered Mother's message was clear that the last shipment would be the final one."

"You did explain to her how many people we have to feed?"

"She knows. You have to understand what's happening back home. We've bought up so much grain that the price of bread has almost doubled in the city. There were protests outside the cathedral."

"Maker." Ruan cursed, "You didn't mention that."

"I was busy." Tamsyn shrugged. It was true. Ruan had barely seen his sister in the last few weeks. Most of her time went into the mammoth task of administering the growing refugee colony and its dwindling supplies. From here the camp looked almost like a besieging army and it was becoming a little too easy to think of them in that way. "They're here because of us, Tamsyn. We can't just cut them off now."

Tamsyn sighed and rubbed her temple, brushing her hand back to push her hair back under her hood.

"Why do you think we are taking this journey?" she muttered. "The local lords will all have filled their granaries in the harvest."

Ruan nodded, "Yes, what there was of it, and I'll bet they squeezed all of their freemen to do it. They have an eye on the civil war. Do you really think you can persuade a lord who thinks he might be besieged to part with his stocks?"

"Oh, I suppose you have a better idea?" Tamsyn sounded testy as she put the cap back on her head. He should have known that her question was rhetorical. He answered anyway.

"If the ships can't bring food to the people they can take the people to the food. We should have started ferrying them across to Ostwick weeks ago." Ruan thought aloud, speaking, at least in part, to himself. They would would be safe across the Waking Sea, at least for a time.

"No." Tamsyn cut his thoughts off, quickly and firmly.

"Why, in Andraste's name, not? Jader and Kirkwall have already taken in thousands."

"Because we've been told, 'No', that's why. 'No' from the Teyrn; 'No' from the Revered Mother, and they're right, Ruan." Tamsyn scowled at the look Ruan gave her and her tone became angry, "Don't look at me like that. If you want to do the one thing guaranteed to turn those protests into riots that would be it. These are our orders."

Despite himself, Ruan couldn't contain a derisive grunt. "Orders." he repeated flatly, with disgust.

"Yes orders!" Tamsyn snapped. "If we all did just as we pleased there would never have been any relief ships."

"Why are you so angry about this? I'm just looking for a solution."

"It isn't your place to look for a solution, Brother." Tamsyn's voice took on a clipped tone. "You took vows to submit to the Maker's will and the orders of your superiors."

Ruan pointed down at the camp, "Those superiors, Sister, don't see this. They don't have to look into the faces of people who will starve when they order us to sail away. They'll just sit in Ostwick and soak up all the glory and congratulations for how generous they were for a while. Was that all that this was about?"

"Do you know how hard I have been working to keep them fed? We don't get to make up our own rules."

"This isn't about rules, Tamsyn."

"This is everything about rules and you need to learn to follow them just like I did."

Ruan bristled and gripped his reins tight, beneath him Gwen whinnied and tossed her head, "I have been taking your orders. I took your damn vows!"

Tamsyn laughed, mirthlessly, "My orders? My vows? I am so sorry that doing something that was expected of you makes you so miserable, Ruan, clearly it is all my doing."

"That isn't what I meant." Ruan replied quietly, and then wondered whether that was true. It certainly wasn't fair, even if he had meant it.

She barely paused, raising her voice over him, "This life clearly isn't good enough for you, is it? Unlike us poor mortals who have been doing it for years."

"Fine words, coming from someone who almost eloped to get out of taking your vows."

Tamsyn flushed red, "I didn't!"

"No, you didn't, and when are you going to stop resenting me for your mistake!" Ruan shouted. This time he instantly wished he could call the words back. Tamsyn looked at him, wide-eyed, then looked away without saying a word.

The two of them sat in silence as Conrad, Ser Roslinn and two other knights walked their mounts up the hill. As he crested the ridge, Conrad looked from Tamsyn to Ruan and back again, and raised an eyebrow. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Shut up, Conrad." Tamsyn snapped and turned her mount to ride away. Conrad's eyebrow lifted higher up his forehead. Ruan gave a bitter sigh and a shrug. "She's probably right" he said.

Conrad tutted. "Your family is going to be the death of me."

"Be careful what you wish for." Ruan replied, and followed his sister.

By the time that the sun had passed its high point they had still not reached Dun Mair. "You've got us lost." Conrad observed dryly as they looked out across the lip of a steep slope that disappeared into the muddy torrent of a river swollen by the autumn rains.

"I did not get us lost," Tamsyn hissed through her teeth, "Did you use your amazing skills of observation to spot any turns in the road that the rest of us missed?"

"Well we aren't going any further this way." Conrad gestured at the river as though Tamsyn might have missed that too. Ruan ignored them and dismounted, walking to the edge of the low ravine. The waters were about fifteen feet below, but he could see wooden beams protruding from the surface. Downriver, where the river meandered, a tangle of timbers was partly damming the flow. Water was bashing and breaking around it. "We aren't lost. There's the bridge." he pointed to the mess of broken wood.

Conrad and Roslinn spurred their horses closer. Conrad's eyes widened as he spotted the wreckage. "Maker's Breath! I didn't think that the storms were that bad."

"They weren't. Someone cut it." Ser Roslinn pointed down at the beams below and the jagged axe-cuts where the supports had been severed.

Ruan looked back to Tamsyn. "Perhaps we should return to the Hermitage and set out tomorrow with a larger party?"

Tamsyn's lips pinched, "You're many things, Brother, but I didn't take you for a coward."

Ruan ground his teeth, "And I didn't take you for a fool, Sister. We cannot guarantee your safety and we cannot afford to lose you and Conrad."

She ignored him, casting her eyes around the landscape to the South. "We head upriver. We can find a place to ford."

Ser Roslinn spoke up then, "Sister, somebody cut this bridge for a reason. There could…"

Tamsyn cut her off, abruptly intoning, "Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide... Come along." she clicked her tongue to urge Moire on and turned her off the road to the South without waiting for the others. Conrad shrugged and followed after her. Reluctantly, Ruan mounted his hobby and did the same.

The going was slow as they picked their way along overgrown hunters' trails on the forested hillsides to the South, riding nose to tail as the trees hemmed them in. They climbed up and around the flanks of a hill with a jutting, rocky outcrop at its crown and then descended again alongside a small stream that tumbled down the hillside to join the same river they were trying to cross. At least three hours had been added to their journey when they found the river again. Here, higher in its course, it was not so wide nor as deep. What might even be described as a path ran through it and the low banks were marked with hoofprints.

Ruan and Gwen had found a comfortable rhythm together on the trek over the hills and set the pace at the head of the line. The others were some yards behind him as he urged Gwen in. The silty brown water was still high enough to reach Ruan's knee. He could feel the pressure of the current on Gwen's flank as it swirled and eddied around them. He soothed her with a stroke on the neck as she searched for secure footing on the rocky riverbed. Several times something slipped under her hooves and Ruan tensed and leaned to help her keep her balance.

It was only when he was in the middle of the stream that he spotted the fence of stakes surrounding the ford on the other side. He drew his sword, gripped the horse's flanks more tightly with his thighs and tried to put the thought of sinking to the bottom in his heavy armour out of his head as he unslung his shield. The ground on the bank was a churned mess, but numerous, deep hoofprints could be seen in the mud. Here and there the fletchings of arrows stood out against the earth. He scanned the treeline as he approached, guiding Gwen with his legs as she waded through the boggy ground. Yet he saw no movement. Then he looked down and saw the first of the bodies. She lay on her back not five paces from him. Her armour was fine plate and chain, but splattered mud had covered its sheen. Nerveless fingers lay on the hilt of a sword half-sunk into the mire and her eyes were wide open, staring through Ruan at the ashen sky. She looked no older than he was. The lance-tip that had killed her was still lodged in her throat.

"Maker!" Tamsyn gasped, letting him know that she had seen her too. Her face was almost as grey as the dead woman who stared up at them. When he looked up Ruan could now see the others. They were mottled with mud in just the same way, so that they had appeared like rocks or fallen branches before. Now they seemed to multiply as he looked around; perhaps a dozen or more. "If these are the people who cut the bridge it doesn't look like they succeeded in stopping someone crossing." he muttered.

"We should do something for them. Build a pyre." Tamsyn's voice sounded far away.

"They haven't lain here long. This fight was fought today. It would take us all day to gather enough wood for this many."

"Brother Ruan is right, Sister. We should keep moving." Ser Roslinn also had her sword and shield in her hands as her hobby walked up beside them.

Tamsyn looked back at them in horror. "We can't. We can at least give them some dignity."

"It isn't safe here." Ruan replied. He didn't think that dignity would mean much to these people any longer.

"It isn't safe anywhere." The steel in Tamsyn's voice was back, "You ride on if you want. I am staying." At that she dismounted to land with a squelch in the mud. She waded determinedly over to the dead woman and leaned down to grab her shoulders. She heaved to no effect and then fell backwards to land on her arse. Watching, Ruan found himself looking down into the eyes of the dead woman again. He shared a wordless look with Roslinn and, with a sigh, he jumped down into the mud. It took some effort to lift the fallen knight. Her head fell back onto his shoulder, still looking up at the sky indifferently.

"Bring her sword," he grunted at Tamsyn as he dragged her out of the mire and laid her on firmer ground where the grass still grew. He closed her eyes, laid her sword on her chest and folded her arms over it. Then he stepped back and looked at her. Sometimes people said that the dead look as though they are sleeping. He decided that they were liars or fools; or both.

"What in the Maker's name are you two doing?" Conrad asked as he joined them on the bank. They both ignored him as they went to pick up another body. "We have to keep moving!" he protested, and they still ignored him.

"This will go faster if you help." Tamsyn said through gritted teeth and effort.

Conrad stared and shook his head. "Maker save us from Trevelyans." he muttered as he dismounted.

Ser Roslinn and the other templars sat in their saddles watching the forest edge for several minutes. Then she ordered them to dismount. It was not a sign of ease, Ruan realised. Templars were not trained to fight on horseback. The six hobbies found their way over to the grass and nibbled at it where they could, though the green patch was quickly filled by the bodies dragged out of the mud. Apart from the knight, each of them wore similar half helms and padded gambesons that might once have been green. There was no insignia, but each of them had the same patch on their chest where something had been torn off. There were thirteen in all. The three of them stood awkwardly by the rows of bodies as Tamsyn chanted…

"The Light shall lead her safely

Through the paths of this world, and into the next.

For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water.

As the moth sees light and goes toward flame,

She should see fire and go towards Light.

The Veil holds no uncertainty for her,

And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker

Shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword."

Ruan, somehow, was always surprised by the soft, melodious tone his sister's voice took on when she sang. Something in him felt a little lighter. He looked at the face of the fallen knight. Her chin was resting on the lance tip that had ended her. Ruan tried to think of her cleansed by fire, taken into the Maker's light. All that would come were thoughts of the scavengers that would come for her when they left. Perhaps it was the trying that really mattered. Perhaps, with time, he could make himself believe at least that.

"You've got a fine voice, Sister." The words broke the quiet peace. All three of them span around to face it. A line of soldiers suddenly appeared out of the treeline. The templars lifted their shields and moved in closer together. "Whoa there…" said the same voice, "No need for this to get out of hand." More figures appeared from the shadows. Ruan counted at least a dozen. Four carried bows, each with arrows notched and pulled. They all wore the same drab-green gambesons and half helms as the dead. The one who had spoken, a young man with a wispy brown beard, spoke again. "It's a good thing that you did here, Sister. But you should have listened to your man and ridden on when you had the chance."

Ruan's hand moved to his sword hilt, "Don't" snapped the soldier. "It would be a shame to spoil such fine looking armour." Ruan froze still as one of the archers trained their bow at him, but noted that each of the archers had no more than two or three arrows in their quivers.

"We are templars on Chantry business. Stand aside." Ser Roslinn growled at them.

"I can see that." replied the wispy-bearded soldier. "The question is what business you have on my road?"

"Road?" Tamsyn looked around at the muddy track, "Is that what it is?"

The soldier scowled at her. "And who might you be?"

Tamsyn answered without missing a beat. "I am Sister Tamsyn, representative of the Revered Mother of Ostwick. This is my jester." she indicated Conrad, who gave her a quizzical look.

"That's Bann Evenrig to you, representative of the Teyrn of Ostwick, and I only jest in my spare time."

"You have a lot of spare time." Tamsyn said quickly.

"Ostwick?" said the soldier, "You're a long way from home. Did you get lost?"

"That's what I said," Conrad replied. "Until we happened upon your fine road, that is."

"Whatever they're doing here they sound like the kind of fine folk people pay ransoms for." growled another of the soldiers.

Tamsyn calmly took Moire's reins, "Perhaps I am, but I'm not sure there's anyone who would pay to get these two reprobates back." She deftly put her foot in the stirrup and swung herself into the saddle.

"You! Stop that! Get down!" Barked the soldier. Ruan gripped his sword hilt tight and flicked his eyes quickly between the three archers. Each of them were sending uncertain looks to each other, wavering their sights between Tamsyn, Ruan, Conrad and the templars.

"No I don't think I shall. I am far too busy to be held for ransom right now. So, kindly get out of my way or get on and shoot me."

"Maker's Balls, woman, what are you doing!?" Conrad hissed.

"My job, Conrad, you should try it sometime." Tamsyn replied.

"GET DOWN!" roared the somewhat bearded soldier. This time Tamsyn replied by knocking her heels to Moire's flanks. The hobby sprang forward at the soldiers. All three loosed their arrows. One panicked and let fly wildly over Tamsyn's head as she leaned into the gallop. A second fired straight into Roslinn's shield and the third wavered long enough between Tamsyn and Ruan before firing for Ruan throw himself to the ground as the arrow whistled over him.

When he looked up, Ruan saw it. It was plain in their faces. These were defeated men. They had been ridden down by cavalry and had been lucky to live. Even a single chantry sister on a horse had spooked them. Tamsyn was already galloping away down the path as their would-be captors tried to decide who to focus on. He used those moments to jump up, shove his foot in the stirrup and heave himself into Gwen's saddle.

A moment later his sword was unsheathed, his shield in his hand. "Get a move on Conrad!" he roared and urged his horse headlong at the soldier with the thin beard, his sword levelled. The horse rushed between the templars. The bearded soldier tumbled onto his back as the hobby reared over him, scrambling back from the stamping hooves.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw an archer nocking an arrow. He turned turned Gwen's head around to face them and urged her at him. The arrow flew and Ruan caught it on his shield. Then he leaned to turn the horse in a circle, sending the soldier staggering as her flank bashed against them. He brought his pommel down onto their helmet to help them down to the ground. Someone rushed his exposed right flank with a spear levelled. Ruan tried to twist his blade around to parry, too slow. The spear point glinted within inches of the Gwen's ribs before Roslinn bashed it down into the earth with her shield and drove her sword into the man's throat.

"To the horses!" Ruan bellowed as he turned from side to side, looking for new threats. Finally Conrad had stopped standing and staring and was mounting his horse. Ruan rushed at another archer. Again they panicked and fired wild. Then he turned again, only quick enough to see a third bow levelled at him. He braced, waiting for it to fly. Then he heard the hammer of hooves and a galloping horse streaked past the archer. Tamsyn swung a big tree branch as she passed, sending the archer flying. The horse leapt over the bearded soldier, who collapsed onto his back again. Pulling back on the reins she brought Moire to a stop and expertly turned her again.

"Mount!" Ruan called again at the templars as the scattered soldiers circled warily around them. All but the one that Roslinn had stabbed. He was bleeding away more life into the mud. "They aren't mages. On your horses. They won't stand!" He and Tamsyn charged at them once more, scattering them, and the templars finally ran for their hobbies. They urged their horses on into a gallop away from the ford. Ruan looked over his shoulder as one final arrow flew after them and lodged into a tree. Somewhere behind him came the long, loud note of a horn. The sound reverberated in the forest around them.

They pushed the tired horses at a gallop until the ford was well out of sight, then slowed to a walk. Tamsyn, her robes still soiled with blood and muck, had the same wild, windswept look Ruan had seen in her after their morning race. "A little warning might not have gone amiss." Conrad said as he finally looked back over his shoulder, and then at Tamsyn. Yet he too had a wide grin on his face.

"What? I seem to remember that you used to like surprises, Bann Evenrig. I also remember that you weren't always so slow witted." Tamsyn teased.

Conrad lifted his eyebrow, but kept his smile. "Out of practise, I suppose."

The two of them shared a half-smiling look for a moment , both seeming as though they were about to say something. The moment came and it went, and neither of them spoke. Suddenly the quiet seemed uncomfortable.

"We shouldn't linger long." Roslinn said, scanning the forest for signs of movement "That horn means they have friends out here somewhere."

Ruan pushing Gwen into a trot, ahead of the others. "Stay together." he called back to them.

The light was failing and the shadows in the forest lengthened. The weak sun glowed behind a grey autumn sky just above the horizon and cast strange shapes as the trees passed across it. Ruan rode ahead, sat high in the saddle with his sword drawn, peering into the forest as he let Gwen guide them along the path. Each flicker set his nerves jangling as he strained to separate false threats from real. A part of him began to enjoy the heightened sensation. He found his breath, measured it to the rhythm of Gwen's trot and let the blood course through him; poised, tense and ready. These hills were not so different from those around his father's house. Ruan could almost hear his voice behind him calling to the hounds at hunt.

A movement in the trees ahead. His eyes narrowed. A man, not a deer. More than one. Moving down the hill to the path ahead of them. Ruan's sword lifted. "There! Go! Ride!" he waved the others ahead of him and pulled on the reins to urge Gwen off the path, into the trees, up the slope. He held his knees in tight and leaned in as she climbed, glancing behind him as Tamsyn, Conrad and the templars started to race down the track. They were going to converge with the bandits. He could see them dashing between the trees, but now he had the high ground. "Come on, girl. Go!" he called to Gwen and her deft little legs began to race, weaving through the trees. He quickened his breath and stayed low as the branches whipped past.

The nearest man turned, too late, as they were upon him. He shouted an obscenity and fell backwards down the slope. Gwen sped past him and kept going. The shout had got the attention of the men in front of him and they turned away from their pursuit as Tamsyn and Conrad galloped past on the track ahead. Most of the bandits scattered before the charge. One had the presence of mind to go down on one knee and brace his spear. Ruan pulled back on the reins and Gwen skidded to a halt feet away. Around them the bandits were finding their feet. There were moments before they were surrounded.

Ruan squeezed in his knees and Gwen leapt forward into a canter and then a gallop, streaking through a gap in their line. He found his position in the saddle again and leaned forward as Gwen kept going down the slope. There was a short whistle and and thump against his back. The sudden knowledge that he had been hit with an arrow made his stomach flutter, even though it seemed not to have penetrated his armour. He could see the track and five horses, far below him and twisting away. Ahead, the slope plunged down into a gully. Just as the instinct to rein in became overwhelming another arrow whistled past him. He cried aloud and pushed on. Gwen leapt over the edge and Ruan threw his body back. For an instant he was weightless and he heard himself laughing. They landed with a jolt and time began again. They burst through branches like they were matchwood and Ruan held on for dear life, twisting and leaning on pure instinct, one arm held high behind him. His blood surged in him as Gwen leapt over a fallen log and landed, throwing him forward. The air was pushed out of his body as he braced himself on her neck. Then he lost himself in the pounding of her hooves, the gushing of her long breaths and his own laughter as the foot of the gully raced up towards them.

He was still panting with laughter as Gwen skidded to a stop in the waters of the brook running down the gully. Ruan patted her flank and looked back up the slope, the lip of it towering high above. "I think I'm in love," he told her. He reached around his back and found the arrow hanging from a tear in his tabard. He pulled it free and tossed it aside. "Let's find the others shall we?" They calmly climbed up from the gully onto the path to watch Tamsyn and Conrad cantering towards them. He greeted them with a grin that spread from one ear to the other. "What took you so long?"