Arthur was riding beside Dutch. The night was beautiful. And they needed time to breathe, away from the gang.

However, as the thoughts and memories fell into the night, being forgotten by the calm conversation full of playful jabs and sarcasm, they heard the sound of another horse behind them. They instantly froze, stopping their horses. When they couldn’t hear a thing, Dutch got off his horse and looked in the direction of the sound.

A black horse, carrying a dark shadow, using a black cloak, that hid the face and body of the stranger. Dutch furrowed his brows and approached carefully, Arthur followed him.

“Oi, why’d ya follow us, mate?”

Dutch asked.

No answer.

He continued trying to speak to the person, but not even a word was spoken. Frustrated already, Dutch nudged the stranger, who would’ve fallen off the horse if Arthur didn’t hold them. Unconscious. Maybe drunk. That’s when they saw—a woman’s features. You.

Dutch looked at that familiar face for a moment, the blood drenching from his face as he recognized you. So much like your mother. His former lover.

Arthur grunted, holding your shoulders and supporting your weight. “What do we do with this one, Dutch?” He asked, looking at you and not seeing the paleness in Dutch’s face. “Take her with us. Gotta ask some questions.” Dutch mumbled, turning around and kicking and small rock to the forest before getting up on his horse again.

When you woke up again, you were tied to a tree. Your head felt heavy and it ached. You looked down, not seeing your hunting knife, immediately looked around, seeing the curious eyes around you.

You saw a bearded men with blonde, shoulder-length hair approaching you—Micah.

“Ain’t you a sweet-lookin’ O’Driscoll.”

Micah, said, tilting your head up. You spat on him, who growled in anger and was about to hit you, when Arthur appeared. The most handsome, yet gruff-looking man you ever saw.

“This ain’t a way to talk to a lady, Micah. Even if the she is an O’Driscoll.”

Arthur said, before pushing him away roughly.