As they galloped along in lightning speed, Philippe felt the chill digging into his skin like a poisoned dagger. Branches whipped past him, their sharp ends biting into his cheeks. They were going so fast that the trees lining the path were blurry pinpricks in the periphery of his vision. The shrill whoop of arrows whizzing past him raised the hair at the nape of his neck as they zigzagged down the path.

The tension of the chase pulsed thorough his veins, and his heart was beating at erratic intervals, sometimes going still or otherwise beating so furiously it threatened to rip his ribs apart.

He felt his instincts taking over him. His hands grew progressively steadier over the reins and he maneuvered the path almost effortlessly, tugging at every curve and ducking every time he felt an arrow near him. He was bent over the horse in utter concentration, and everything else but the chase fading away from his mind.

The men behind them shouted, their fury apparent in their voices, cursing profusely every time they missed their mark. They weren't poor marksmen no doubt, but Philippe's maniacal riding style—he diverted from the path in front of them, whipped the horse feverishly, causing it to jump and duck whenever his instinct said that they were going for the foot of the horse or the noblewoman's neck-- kept them from hitting their marks. The horse swiveled around like a drunk, but aside from occasional exclamations, the noblewoman did not protest.

A loud swear accompanied by the panicked neighing of a horse caused him to turn his head around for a fraction of a second. He saw one of the riders on the forest floor, an arrow cleanly lodged in his throat, rivulets of blood streaming down his breastplate.

"Theo," one of the men screamed, "Theo!" Hysteria was apparent in his voice. "I will kill you," he roared, "I will kill both of you, d'Aramitz, mark my words."

Philippe shouted above the whistling of the wind to the noblewoman, "Is your name d'Aramitz?"

"Yes, Marie d'Aramitz," she answered him back. When he turned around, he saw her face slightly tilted towards his back, pulling an arrow out of the quiver. "Focus on the path and don't get us killed," she snapped as she took her mark. He complied, pulling the horse's reins. They missed a puddle quite narrowly.

He heard another man fall down—Marie d'Aramitz had shot him in the thigh and he'd lost his grip on the reins and had fallen off his horse. The horse, unaware that its rider had been unseated, raced past them.

At the horizon, he spotted faint outlines of some huts—they were in the outskirts of Paris. In front of them lay barren field teeming with weeds and dead grass. Fallow land, presumably abandoned during the years of the Revolution.

"Where do I ride to in the city?" Philippe shouted to Marie d'Aramitz as they exited the forest. The azure sky slowly slid into view, replacing the shroud of treetops that'd been over them in the forest. The dense foliage around them was being replaced by increasingly sparser vegetation.

"In the city?" She shrieked, "Mon dieu, anywhere but the city. Paris is teeming with as many sewer rats as with Carpentier's men. I thought I'd be able to get rid of all the men by this time, but they're too skilled."

"Back into the forest, then," he muttered to himself and took a sharp right turn while feinting to turn left, thus effectively causing the pursuers to misfire. However, a whoosh sounded by his left ear and sudden pain flashed through him, going as abruptly as it had come. He swore loudly, causing Marie to let out an alarmed squawk. He felt warm liquid trickle down the top of his ear and drip down to his chin. He didn't have to look at the stained hem of his shirt to know that it was blood. He slapped the horse's hide violently with the reins, his energy fuelled by the bursts of pain. The horse shot into the air and galloped faster, its speed rivaling that of the breeze.

"Nom de Dieu," she exclaimed, as he slowed down. They had temporarily lost the pursuers, who were out of sight but still within earshot. "He nicked your ear. But misfortunes don't come singly, eh? I've run out of arrows." She signed balefully.

"They'll come back, won't they?" Philippe asked. The horse was panting heavily, the rise and fall of its body apparent under him. The choppy movements it made as it wheezed irritated him.

"Of course, they won't lose heart easily. If you want to get away, take your chance and leave now. I'm unarmed and alone, while the four men that remain are all armed sufficiently."

"I'd rather help you out," he replied honestly. "I couldn't live with myself if I abandoned you."

"Do not make it sound like you are the hero in the situation, Monsieur Fitzgerald," she shot back. Her back was turned to him, but he could very well imagine her frowning. "I'm the one shooting the arrows, after all."

"Of course," he told her, smiling to himself. "And on the note of arrows, I've got a dagger you can use instead."

"I could definitely aim it at the men and bring one or two of them down, but we will have to retrieve it. How do you intend to do that?"

Just then, a face flashed through the mass of branches and leaves. The men had caught up. Drawing his dagger out of his coat and passing it to her, he said, "I'll get you past the men, you retrieve the dagger."

Before she could offer him a reply, he was off. The horse let out a neigh of protest, but couldn't help but run when Philippe slapped the reins against its back resolutely. Once again, they were racing with the wind.

"They're catching up," shouted Marie d'Aramitz. "Can you go faster?"

"Not unless I kill your horse," he replied. The horse was dangerously out-of-breath, and the way its muscles moved beneath him indicted that it was quite old indeed. He could feel its struggle with every stride. When she didn't say anything, he prompted, "Use the dagger."

And she did. The panicked neigh of a horse sounded. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw some surprised birds hurtling out of their bushes.

"Turn!" Marie shouted at him. He took one look back to size the jump he would have to make. There were two men left. Both of them were towards the right of the path, which gave him room to maneuver in the left. The dagger was a few feet behind them, stained with blood. A man was splayed right next to it, his bleeding horse on top of him, struggling to escape from under it. Marie d'Aramitz had nicked the horse instead of the man.

He glanced at the two unharmed men. They were aiming their arrows at them. Judging by the distance between the two pursuers, it wouldn't be very easy for them to turn their horses around quickly. He pulled the reins to his left, and the horse took off in the right. Holding them tightly, they came to a skittering halt.

But it was not for long. In a split second, he turned the horse around, such that they were facing the men. Before they could realize what was happening and shoot, he was galloping past them. The dagger—an iron blade with a plain copper hilt—was drawing closer into sight. Philippe felt Marie d'Aramitz's hand clutch his coat. Her weight shifted to the left.

With a sudden swoop and the clatter of metal, she'd lifted it. He felt her moving behind her as her hold on his coat loosened. She was sitting upright once again.

"Got it," she panted.

The men's shouts grew more distant as they rode forward. The sound of hooves slowly faded away until the only ones he could hear where those of the horse they were riding. Philippe presumed that the two left standing had given up the chase. A final arrow whizzed past them harmlessly.

"They're gone," Marie d'Aramitz piped up as they slowed down to a stop. The eerie stillness of the forest returned.

She was the first one to leap off the horse. Without a word, she began walking away from the horse, her shoulders shuddering violently. Philippe was puzzled. Leaping off the horse lithely, he followed the noblewoman.

"Mademoiselle d'Aramitz, what happened?" he asked as he caught up with her. Her actions left him extremely confused. They had escaped from the men—she'd defeated almost all of them single-handedly, but she was breaking down.

"Call me Marie," she said dispassionately, turning her face to him. She wasn't shuddering as violently now. Her features were strangely slack. He could feel her agony when he looked into her strangely impassionate eyes.

"Alright, Marie, what happened," questioned Philippe.

"I killed a man."

Philippe blinked stupidly for a moment. His lips twitched despite himself. "Y-You killed a man," he asked, disbelief clouding his voice.

"I killed a man--that Theo," she repeated, her voice barely a whisper. Her hand was clutching at the dagger so tightly that it seemed like she was holding onto it for dear life.

"Well, what about it?" Philippe asked loudly, placing his hands on his hips as he panted heavily.

"I've never killed a man," she said, her blank eyes fixed on him.

"Five men were chasing after you; you were bound to kill one of them if you wanted to escape alive."

"B-but I've never killed a man," she said loudly. Her face contorted, her lips quivering violently.

"Now you have," Philippe shot back, but not unkindly. Perhaps it did not come out as he'd meant it, for Marie collapsed onto a rock nearby and buried her head in her arms. He struggled to down the bile that rose to his throat as horror struck him. The realization that what he had said was entirely inappropriate considering the state of her mind hit him. He knelt next to her, the twigs and pebbles on the ground digging into his knees uncomfortably.

"It's that time we're living in, Marie," he said softly, gazing at the horse which was still recovering from its ordeal. "'Tis an era of violence and bloodshed and to survive, we must be a part of it."

"I could've shot his hand, but I went for his heart," she muttered, lifting her head. "I could've avoided the violence and bloodshed. But I reveled in it."

Philippe found it disconcerting that her face remains unstained by tears despite her shaking shoulders and crumpled expression, but he did not mention it. "Happened in the heat of the chase," he offered.

"It happened nevertheless," she said, shrugging.

Philippe nodded at her and turned his gaze back at the horse, racking his mind for a reply. The fact couldn't be denied that the murder could have been prevented, but he could not feel the pressing pain she did at having had a hand in it. He had killed men too many a time to experience the heartache.

They sat in heavy silence.

"Tell me, Marie," he asked finally, "why were they chasing you?"

She lifted her eyebrow, surprised. "The whole of Paris knows," she laughed, "Monsieur—"

"Philippe," he interjected.

"Philippe," she corrected herself, a tiny smile flitting across her face, "Where have you been?"

"Bordeaux," he said. "I'm back in Paris after five years now."

"Explains your accent," she observed, before continuing, "You have family or friends here, I suppose?"

"My parents, yes."

"Ask them about it, they will tell you."

"Why don't you tell me yourself?"

She stood up abruptly. "Your parents will be waiting to meet you, I'm sure. You can ask them about me while you're at it," she said, her mouth a thin slit stretched over her pained expression.

"B—," he began. She pressed the dagger, which he hadn't noticed she still had, into his hand. Its blade was stained scarlet.

"Go," she said. Her voice was flat. "Thank you for everything, Philippe, but you should go now."

He wanted to say something, but his tongue wouldn't move. His feet began inching away from her against his will. Feeling like a marionette, he wiped the blood off the dagger with some amber leaves and did as she bid. The blasted invisible strings pulled him almost aimlessly along the forest path, the raspy leaves crunching at his every step. He kept turning back reluctantly until he could see Marie d'Aramitz and her ebony horse no more.

L'appel du vide hit #21 in Historical fiction yesterday, thank you so much for that!

So, how did you guys like this chapter? What do you think of the dynamic between Marie and Philippe?

I apologise for the stark differences in chapter length- 4,000 words is too long for Wattpad and to me, cutting off chapters at points such that there is continuity is important.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you think :)