Is He Mad?

Their voices are getting closer and soon I am able to hear them beneath the tree. Clearly they know I am here - they are not idiots - perhaps a little half witted, but they are not stupid. They're rather loud though and I am surprised they do not gain the attention of other unsavory men down here. Instead all seems to be quiet save for their reckless chatter. I am not too sure how much time has past by the time Roland himself emerges from behind a tree some feet away from the men. As usual, Roland carries himself with an air of arrogance, as if he is the most dangerous man down here.

"Julia, sweetheart, come down here," he says whilst stopping at the base of the tree I am in. "I know ya'll is up there." Roland looks up, his eyes traveling the trunk until they finally land on me. "Ah, there ya are."

This is not good. I know I am not a useless thing when it comes to fighting, however, I also know that it will waste a lot of my energy if I were to dare come down from this tree and face them all off. There are less men down there, I realize, than before, but I knew I could not square off with them still. Roland is the size of two strong muscled men and the American carries little to no mercy. I attempt to come one with the bark on the thick limb I am flattening myself against, though I am sure it will not last very long.

"Sweetheart," begins Roland again, causing me to scowl, "don't make me come up there and get ya." The man is sizing up the tree, I can see, and after he is finished, I can also see that he is actually going to come up and get me. That would be very unfortunate for myself if he succeeded.

When he manages to catch onto a low limb of the tree, I can not help the panic that flutters in the pit of my stomach. Roland is a heavy man, that much I know, but the idea of him actually accomplishing the task of getting his hands on me ... I did not think he would follow through. However, I seem to be wrong which only makes this situation more dangerous, at least more dangerous than I first thought. I end up unfolding myself and standing up on the limb. I tilt my head back as to look up the rest of the tree, knowing that I must come up with a better plan than climb higher. It will only put off what is to happen if I remain in this tree. There is no other option, I soon come to find out, than to risk breaking a limb by falling from this tree and taking a run for it.

Of course, Roland's men are still down there, waiting for their leader to come back with a to-

There is a noise not too far away from us - a rustle in the snow. And then I see it: a dagger has been thrown, nearly sticking Roland in the center of his back. Now it is protruding from the bark next to Roland's body, missing him by mere inches. I am not sure what or whom made this distraction, but I am not a fool. Without further hesitation on my part, I leap from the tree and land with a small noise on the ground. I can feel heat rush up my ankle, however I do not pay attention to it. There is more noise from behind me and there are more voices. It sparks my curiosity, but I know Roland and his men will not back down and let their prey escape as easily, so I begin running. It occurs to me that they may not be coming after me, but I pay no mind to that little thought, I just run. And when I can not anymore, when the adrenaline leaves and the pain in my ankle is finally felt, I run behind a tree to catch my breath.

The air is still as I lean against it, only my breathing is to be heard. It may not have been the most ideal place for this, but I find in myself not to care as I continue to breathe through the pain. I have had broken and dislocated limbs down here before, but it is usually under much calmer circumstances, it was usually under my control, not someone else.

Once I gain better control over my body, I take a light step on my injured foot, only to quickly withdraw with a hiss of pain. This is not good, if Roland and his men do end up finding him ... it would be greatly unpleasant for himself. There is one thing that Roland does not like and that is men who are weaker than he is. And if that is the case, then those men are better off getting killed or doing the job themselves. The stories that circle around this land are not pleasant. Weak men are to be placed in the role of women - and it would not be ideal for a woman to be down here, that is for certain.

A groan is suppressed when I begin limping in the direction of my burrow, not yet knowing if someone else had found it and claimed it as their own. If that will be the case, I know I am as good as dead. Either I will die from the cold tonight or men will find me and kill me. Neither sound too preferable. They both will also take a fair amount of time before my body will still and never wake again.

I still suddenly when a crunch of snow is heard behind me. It is Roland coming to take me, I am assuming. And with quiet ease, I take the knife from my pocket, prepared to fend the dog off, prepared to make sure his grubby paws stay off of me. I swiftly turn around and am about to lunch the knife into the man's throat when a hand reaches out and grabs my wrist, squeezing it until my grip slackens on the blade, causing it to drop to the ground. My past assumption is wrong, I soon see when another man's face comes into my sight. He is dark skinned and his head is wrapped in linen. There is a gap where I can see his eyes and those are the eyes of someone who is not Roland.

"Garçon, vous êtes en sécurité pour l'instant," is heard from behind the cloth covering the lower section of his face. I want to breathe a breath of relief, but instead remain still with the man's hand still squeezing my wrist. The hardness in his face relaxes all of a sudden and that hand loses its grip, falling to his side.

I am not sure what to say, realizing it takes too much energy, energy I do not have, to talk. I stand there, my eyes not leaving his and the whole time I am stiff, prepared to defend myself if this man suddenly has a change of mind and decides that I owe him in some way. He does not do anything though, does not even blink as he stares back at me.

"I-"

"Do not speak," the man says, finally looking away from me, towards another man that I did not realize was there the whole time. "Come," he looks at me again and motions to walk in front of him, "you need to eat and rest." I am hesitant to go with him, however in the end I choose to ignore whatever ill feeling I have for this stranger and decide to go in the way he is direction, in the way the other man is walking in front of me. It is a strange feeling being with other people who are not wanting to harm or own me. It is true, I am not sure what these men have planned, but there is a peace surrounding them that can not go unnoticed. I could sense it, therefore I did not react badly to the arm that strays around my shoulder.

I narrow my eyes into slits, turning my head to look at the man who had spoken to me. There is a smile on his face. It is a smile of convenience, letting me know that I will not be harmed if I do not do anything rash. I can see the clear warning behind those yellow teeth. I heed it and look away, accepting the man's arm around my shoulders.