Winter 1886

As the days became shorter, and her time wasn't as occupied with summer chores, Christine began to focus her attentions more on her children, educating them in the basics of grammar, music theory, and mathematics. Alexandre was soon to turn eight, and it was time to get serious about such academic pursuits. A bored child does not lead to good, she knew that, citing herself in her youth. Her own 'textbook' education being limited, her experience favoring the arts, she taught them as best as she could. Nevertheless, Christine was not a stupid woman. In her times of leisure, she was never one to turn down a book or two. Only a few days prior did she pick up Ghosts, a play recently translated to French. Meg had mentioned it briefly during her visit, and the Norwegian playwright by the name of Ibsen was making news in the upper echelons of french society. Although physically isolated from the artistic world, she still appreciated things of a higher vain, having been fostered by them herself. She strove to pass this appreciation to her children one day.

Missing him still lingered within her very soul. She never gave up hope of his return, but she no longer would glance from reading her book to look out the window. She had other people, in that very house, that she would busy her time with.

Sitting at the quaint table located in the parlor, Christine noticed her children staring out the window, the eldest resting his sharp chin lazily upon his unused palm. Obediently, the pair sat still, tracing letters, Alexandre writing sentences of his choosing. She felt comradery with the two. Oh how she could relate to the tiredness of being a student! But now, it was she who was the teacher. Perhaps Erik had felt guilty as well, working his own student to exhaustion. Deciding that they deserved a reward for their good behavior, she would release them early. After all, they had been at it for hours.

"Alexandre, Josephine, you may be excused. You two have done well today."

They immediately perked up. "Oh thank you mother!" Alexandre beamed.

Hearing the scrape of two chairs against wood floorboards, the children ran into the outdoors. Macbeth followed the children, bouncing happily. Brutus bothered to raise his head, then proceeded to return it back to its spot atop his large paws.

The moment in which her husband had brought the two dogs home had been an unexpected one. It had been only a few weeks before he left, before he received the foreboding letter of summons when they realized their time would be cut short.

She clutched the young Alexandre, then a bustling spirit of two, to her breast, eyeing her husband as he casually approached the newly painted front steps of the porch.

"Erik?" she inquired. Two pups, nearly full grown, trotted behind him, tongues hanging loose without a care in the world.

"Why, my dear, you must have protectors should I be away." She laughed at this, as the pups stumbled about, nearly tripping over their paws they had yet to grow into.

"Christine, we are no longer in the city, I must ensure the safety of the boy, of my darling wife. They are guardians." She nodded at this. "And besides" he added. "Every home is in need of some dogs."

Measuring up the filthy, intruding beasts, Christine was slightly afraid. They exhibited two sets of large pointed ears, a black splotch spanning the length of their backs, with matching sets of large teeth. Christine could do nothing but think of the Grimm Brothers' fairy tales her father would often read to her whilst passing through Germany. Red riding hood she was, indeed. Never being the closest friend to animals, she approached the two furry forms warily. Rather, she had always kept her guard around various fauna, the memory of her father being bucked by a horse vivid since her childhood, as they were travelling around Northern Europe, sharing their music.

Glancing at her husband, noting his swift nod, she reached her hand out. Being careful to pivot Alexandre away from them, (who seemed anything but bored with these new fuzzy creatures) she allowed the two of them to get a good smell. They barked in excitement, which made her jump, and proceeded to lick her hand. She smiled at this. Erik was amused at this exchange, his mouth threatening to show it.

She sighed. "And what have you named them, my love?"

"The large one is Brutus, the other Macbeth", he said. As if it was obvious.

Her eyebrows knotted at this. "But, Erik! That will surely bring bad luck, it is forbidden to utter Macbeth in the theater! And why did Julius Caesar voice the phrase 'et tu, Brute?'" She set Alexandre down, carefully watching him. The dogs seemed to be gentle, smelling him as young expressions of glee abounded, but she would make sure. And she would uncover the reasoning behind her husband's unconventional choice of Shakespearean namesake.

Erik shifted at this, although the humor that usually remained dormant was alive in his golden eyes. "Christine, I am a man of contradictions, what can I say?"

Just like the Opera Ghost. She couldn't argue with that logic, silly as it may be.

"Very well. But you shall train them.", giving him a peck on his exposed cheek.

And in the following weeks Christine would look out the window and see him doing just that.

"Alexandre, keep watch of your sister. And do not forget your coats! " She all but laughed at their visible excitement.

"Yes, Mama." They chimed. And with the click of a shutting door they were off.

When offered free time, the children typically would meander around the barn, creating imaginary stories and games as they sprung from spot to spot, crunching the fallen leaves with their boots. The snow had yet to fall, unusual for early December. With ample space to play, they each thoroughly enjoyed the sheer immensity of the grounds, especially a collection of trees adjoining the side of the home opposite the ocean: perfect for hide and seek.

But Alexandre had grown tired of this game, just like the seemingly never ending grammar lessons his mother liked to force them to complete. As the two walked along the pasture fence, he had an idea. Traveler, ever present and quiet as the land itself, looked back at him knowingly. Her head was raised high, chest puffed out, as if to intimidate the boy. Either he was too brave to care or too stupid to notice, but her tactics were in vain.

Whispering to his younger comrade in arms, Alexandre crouched down, making himself level with her.

"Let us see how fast the old lady can go."

Josephine's eyes mimicked tea saucers. Then she grinned, letting out an excited giggle.

He approached the horse with patience, nothing would sway him from his goal now. Oh yes, he had ridden the mare before, but only with his mother present. In fact, she would caution the children away from Traveler. Being the young boy he was, Christine had never allowed Alexandre full control over the thousand pound animal. He was still much too young for such things, and she never was that good of an equestrian anyways. Much less a trainer.

This time would be different, however.

Unlocking the pasture gate, he quietly gathered up his courage and reached the animal, snorting with the whites of her eyes plainly visible. Heaving his frame up on the fence post, as he was too small to mount without assistance, he tested the horse by leaning part of his weight upon her side. Josephine watched with adept attention, leaning on the adjacent fence. Traveler's hooves began to fidget. She would soon figure out the full extent of his scheme and flee. Macbeth barked in warning, as if advising with his fellow animal's decision.

It was now or never.

Alexandre swung himself on and practically plopped on the mare's back, almost falling off the opposite side as a result. But he was big for is age, and kept on. Looping his fingers between the hairs of the mane, he grinned at Josephine.

And then he kicked. Hard.

Traveler was much older than him, probably approaching twenty, he had thought before this expedition. This much was true, except that her aging state had not limited her physical strength as much as Alexandre had previously perceived. With a grunt uncharacteristic of the once docile creature, two large, domineering hooves lifted upwards, briefly flying in the air and then harshly landing on the hard earth. This sent Alexandre into a panic, tightening his grip upon the coarse hairs until all blood had retreated from his knuckles. Only serving to further spook the horse, the tension upon her neck sent her into a frenzy. And with that she bolted.

Josephine knew immediately the severity of the situation. What started as lighthearted play had turned into a most dangerous game. Her older brother had galloped off into another world, for all she knew! Her mother would not like it. Still, the small girl stumbled upon the rickety porch steps. Macbeth followed, barking repeatedly.

Christine could sense something had gone awry. Looking at her daughter enter the house with wet cheeks, her stomach dropped.

"Josephine, tell me what has happened." She pleaded, approaching the girl's height, clutching her shoulders in anxiety.

"Alexandre… he… he-" Her small frame was aggressively sniffling now. Macbeth and Brutus were growing louder, begging to be let out.

"Josie, you must tell me, now." Christine's voice cracked on the last word. Should she lose one of her children, it would be a horrible pain. The worst imaginable. Incomprehensible.

"He… he was riding Traveler, and… and she ran away" The young girl clutched her mother with the strength Christine didn't know she possessed. Letting the dogs out, she watched them chase out towards the East. They must have went that direction.

Holding Josephine tightly to her chest, she followed the dogs as best as she could. She was careful to avoid the rocks and divets in the rolling grasses, restlessly covering the knolls as fast as her capability allowed.

The gate had only been partially open a few moments prior, but now Traveler broke through it with mighty prowess, much more akin to the moods of Oberon when he was a growing colt. Rattling echoing behind them in the distance, and wind whipping through his eardrums louder than a whistle, she carried him beyond the house, into the open fields of the French countryside. With no bridle and no reins, the young boy had no way of steering the beast, or slowing it down, at least not that he knew of. The only thing concerning him at the present was maintaining his current position, which proved to be difficult.

It was then a man, seeing the current debacle unfold as he was riding to his own destination, took notice that the young fellow was in clear need of help. Evidently, the horse was not taking him where he wanted to go. Watching the small form clutched snugly to the mare's withers, he spurred his own onward, pivoting his hardy pony so as to be even with the boy.

Allowing his target to pass him, the man sat upwards in the saddle, reaching a gallop, and eventually caught up to the young boy and his rogue animal. The two horses ran side by side for what felt a century to the boy, and as his eyes locked with the man, he shot him a pleading look. The boy's eyes were unnaturally golden, almost yellow in cover. This unnerved the man.

Fortunately, he dismissed the distraction and reached into a hidden pocket, situated underneath the saddle, plucking out a length of rope his friend had given him many months ago. It proved unexpectedly useful. He corralled the horse beside him, bringing them both to a loping canter. The boy, all too thankful to be once again at a reasonable pace, virtually launched himself off of the mare's back.

Alexandre stumbled backwards, catching his breath and admiring the valor of his sudden savior. The man met halted the horses, sliding off his own and gazing down on him with worry. He approached slowly.

The man looked different to Alexandre. With a thick black beard, square jaw, and brown skin, he was unlike any he had seen before. He marveled at strange man's bravery and skill. Catching a spooked horse was not an easy feat, especially to an impressionable young child. Eventually recalling his manners, and quitting his gaping, he blurted out-

"Thank you monsieur."

The man smiled, a knowing tone in his voice. "My boy", he enunciated his vowels with foreign lilt to his speech. "I must inquire, are you alright?"

The man seemed anxious. Alexandre did not understand why, he was the one at fault here. He fidgeted his hands together.

"Yes monsieur." He nodded guiltily.

"Has your father not taught you to be mindful among animals?" He said this, patting Traveler to calm her tiring frame The question was worded accusingly but was delivered calmly. This man was strange indeed.

"My father is gone." He responded honestly.

It was then the man realized. The golden orbs should have alarmed him at the start. This boy had the same sharp features, tall stature, and dark hair of his father. According to the hasty map his friend had drawn and brief description of the area, he was close to his destination. He knew he was forever doomed to slave over the ever incomplete task saving his friend's hide, in one form or another. He had not expected this duty to span generations, however. Perhaps the Punjab Lasso had been put to good use after all, aiding the rescue of Erik's own son.

"You are Alexandre, am I not correct?" The boy immediately looked up in shock. So he was.

"Nadir Khan. I am a friend of your father's."