I stumbled through the fog that covered everything. I stopped and listened. Nothing. I had lost my pursuers. I felt relief, but I was also alone and lost. I was 20 years old. My family had been killed. My heritage was gone. Now I had lost even my horse to those thieves. I pulled what was left of my torn dress over my exposed breast and sank down onto the damp leaves to catch my breath and think.
I am a good fighter, even if I am a woman. My father and my brothers had trained me as a warrior since the age of 7. My mother died of fever when I was 8, and even if I remember her well, I grew up without her. We were nobles, but no one was safe from the marauding barbarians who attacked castles like ours to seize booty and frighten everyone from the land. When they attacked our castle ten days ago, I had fought alongside my father and my brothers. But our castle had been burned, and. I alone survived. When my younger brother was killed right beside me, I slashed his killer across the neck and fled. I swore I would fight them another day.
I hid in the woods for two days, found one of our horses that had not been rounded up and herded away.
I had entered these woods after a long journey from the North.
After hours without water or food I was beginning to lose my strength, and I was no match for the three drunken thieves I came upon. They grabbed my horse and my arm before I could hoist my sword. They pulled me to the ground and tore at my dress, exposing my breasts, touching them with dirty hands. I was frightened, of course, but my mind registered the events coldly: I just wanted to find the right moment to fight them. No matter how hard I kicked and squirmed, two of them forcefully held me down while one began unfastening his pants. Then, that terrible filthy man straddled my leg and ordered me to look at him. "I will punish you with this!" he groaned while his huge, throbbing member was pointing at me.
It was too much. As he kneeled and reached to push my legs apart, my anger exploded and with all the strength I could summon I managed to lift my knee, hitting him on his testicles. The maniac fell right against his comrades who had been too concentrated on my breasts until the last second to react. The three of them fell to the ground, and I ran as fast as I could. I did not have time to panic.
They began running after me, but they were drunk and I was too fast. They lost track after a short while and I entered the brush with a smile of relief.
In the quite of the fog, as the light was fading and chill was settling in, I shuddered and looked around. I had to survive the night. I sat on a cold stone covered with musk and fell asleep immediately.
I woke up a few moments later with a start. I had a sense of being watched...why? I turned around and I realized I was not alone.
A man in his mid-thirties was staring at me; his horse was probably nearby because I could hear it. He was strong, his dark hair cut short, he was muscular built and wore leather armour with a black robe. He had a sword with him, and I gulped down my fear, not knowing what to expect. Then, I met his dark and golden shaded eyes...my heart missed a beat. He saw me sleeping, I thought, and I instinctively covered my breasts with my hands, embarrassed.
He had a beautiful face -- a long elegant nose, sensual lips, and chiselled features. "Have you been here for long, young lady?" he asked me, his tone steady yet deep and serious.
I tried to catch my breath and calm down. "Well...I...no, not for long."
His eyes looked at my breasts, and he moved closer. "Did someone hurt you?"
I took a deep breath and decided to speak.
"My Lord, I had just left my town when I opted for a protected travel across the forest, and I bumped into a bunch of thieves. They stole my horse, everything I brought for my journey. That's why you see me in such a state...but they didn't have the time to..." I blushed. "I managed to fight and eventually saved myself." I paused. "I am Caroline of Peverell...." He stopped me. "This forest is wicked, especially for pretty young ladies like you. You shouldn't have decided to enter it." It was patronizing, but I simply nodded. "My name is Guillaume Deschamps. I wish to do you no harm. I live near this forest. We need to get you out of here as soon as we can." We locked eyes again; I felt a positive feeling comforting my soul as well as my tired body.
We approached his horse, a strong, proud black animal. I caressed the horse's nose. "Here, let me help you." I felt a jolt of electricity running up my spine as he lifted me up... "Gothard is not an easy ride. You'd better put your arms around my waist, like this," he suggested, reaching back and pulling an arm around him. I felt so silly: here I was, lost in the woods and above all, I was feeling attracted to this stranger.
We trotted, my breasts brushing against his leather-covered body, my arms around his waist. I felt warm. We remained silent for a while, then I decided to break the silence.
"I see from your sword that you must be of noble's heritage, and a soldier." I said.
"Yes, but not any more," he replied. "My life is simple and quieter now."
"My brother was a soldier as well. But...he died. I am my family's sole survivor. The barbarians destroyed our castle after we fought against them." I tried to use a steady tone, but I am sure he felt me tremble all over...he squeezed my arms.
"I am sorry. It must be an unbearable loss." His voice was polite. I put my head on his back. He did not protest. Maybe he thought I fell asleep.
The horse increased its pace and I stiffened, my breasts pressed against his back, caressing them. I suffocated a small moan. Was he feeling my hard nipples pointing out?
"Stop" he ordered. We were in a large field surrounded by willow trees. A stone cottage was in front of us.
"Such a beautiful place, so peaceful," I said.
He glanced over his shoulder. "Yes, I like loneliness."
He climbed off the horse and offered his hand. I let it wrap mine and I felt a rush again as he put his other hand on my waist and helped me down.
"Welcome to my cottage. Carolina," he said with kind smile, awkwardly dropped my hand.
My name, pronounced from his lips with a low voice worked its magic on me...I shyly smiled, realizing that my skin was tingling, my heart was racing and I couldn't cope all this sensation without being noticed. He opened the wooden door and we went inside.
The first room was a small salon. It had a stone wall and simple wooden furniture, except for a leather sofa that was placed strategically in front of a big fireplace. A place to recover and heal heart scars, forgetting Evil on Earth.
