It was spring and Yue was out beneath the early morning sun hunting for mushrooms in the forest. The snow had melted and given way to lush grass. Bright May flowers sprinkled colour across the landscape and the air was filled with the humming of bees. Birds flitted from their nests, swooping down to the ground to collect worms for their newly hatched chicks. They called to one another, alternating between warbles and chirrups. Yue had never felt so alive as he did this morning, eight hundred years in the past.

He sung to himself as he gathered mushrooms, an old love song his mother used to sing whenever she was working in her studio. It was a French song from long ago, a song his mother had learnt in Paris and now he sung it to Erhi. He sung it when she slept, he sung it when she woke, he hummed it as he leaned in for a morning kiss. He smiled at the thought of her, a silly ear to ear grin just for himself. The sort of irrepressible smile that attaches itself to young love.

There was a rustle in the undergrowth. Yue stopped singing. He dropped his sack of mushrooms and reached for the knife at his hip. Now that spring had breathed life into the land once more, it meant that more people were abroad, and people equalled danger. He pressed himself against the earth, lowering his body into a pillow of grass and flowers. He stilled his breathing and waited. The sound of movement grew closer. Branches were brushed aside. Birds cocked their heads and gazed down from overhead. Yue readied himself like a coiled spring. It wasn't that he was unafraid, but now he had someone to protect other than himself, some who needed him, he discovered that he had a newfound courage. Erhi. He mouthed her name as a sort of silent prayer.

When the horse appeared in the clearing Yue had to stop himself from laughing out loud and scaring it away. He had spotted horses from afar all winter, flighty creatures who had lost their masters in battle, but this was the closest he had gotten to one without it running away. It still had its bit between its teeth, and there were sores running along its face where its reins had rubbed its skin raw. It leant down to chew the grass but had difficulty eating because of the bit. Ever so slowly, Yue rose to his feet. The horse looked up but didn't flee. Yue made his way towards it, keeping his hands raised to show that he was a friend. As he reached the horse it whinnied and shied away. Yue took hold of its reins and stroked its mane, reassuring the poor creature. He removed the bit from its mouth and fished a mushroom from out of his sack, feeding the horse from his hand. It was tall white horse, although the deprivations of winter had stretched its skin across its frame. By now, Yue knew enough about horses to recognise that it was an Arabian stallion rather than a Mongolian mare.

"What should I call you?" asked Yue out loud.

The horse nuzzled at his hand and Yue stroked it reassuringly. He wracked his brains for a good equine name, but nothing suitable came to him. The only thing he could think of was the love song that his mother sung. He could picture the cover of the vinyl record. It had an old black and white picture of the French singer looking up to the heavens. What was her name. It was on the tip of his tongue. That was it. Piaf, Edith Piaf.

"Piaf, that's what I'll call you" said Yue, speaking to the horse.

Whether the creature understood him or not was by the by, from now on he addressed it as Piaf. He took it gently by the reins and led it out of the glade and back to where he and Erhi were camped at the edge of the forest. Even from this distance Yue could hear the sound of arrows thudding into wood. Erhi was practising her archery. She still couldn't ride and shoot, but from the ground she was gradually regaining her strength. Yue whistled to let her know that it was him, two short and one long. When she saw what he had brought with him she tried to look cross, but Yue could detect a smile beneath her frown. For the tenth time this week he felt like kissing her, but something made him hold back. A fear of spoiling what they had. What if she didn't like him back? What if he ruined everything?

Sabar came over to inspect their new companion. Both horses eyed each other warily. Arab and Mongol, stallion and mare. Yue told her its name, explaining its origin and Erhi laughed at him.

"I thought war horses were meant to have fearsome names?" said Erhi.

"Love can be fierce to" replied Yue, suddenly blushing.

"Well don't come running to me when Piaf refuses to charge into battle and instead decides to serenade the enemy from the side lines" said Erhi.

Talk of war clouded Yue's mood. Erhi was still determined on making her way to Samarkand once she was fully healed. Yue knew that he had no right to stop her, that it was what she wanted, but a part of him was also hoping that they could stay like this forever, living off the land. Just the two of them, removed from the world, free to do as they pleased. It no longer mattered to Yue that he was living eight hundred years in the past, all that mattered was that he was with Erhi.

"I believe you promised me breakfast. You shouldn't ride on an empty stomach" said Erhi.

"Ride?" asked Yue, arching his eyebrow.

"Now you have a horse, it makes sense that you should learn how to ride it" replied Erhi.

After breakfast Erhi instructed Yue on how best to mount Piaf. He had ridden Sabar before, briefly and without much success. She was Erhi's horse and didn't take kindly to being ridden by strangers. Piaf, however, despite being a good head taller than Sabar, was a more pliant steed and took to Yue with ease. Soon Yue was cantering along the edge of the forest, following Erhi's instructions on how to steer with his thighs so that he could keep his hands free. Erhi handed him her bow and a single arrow, explaining that she didn't want him breaking all the arrows in her quiver if he fell off.

"Remember, only shoot when all four of Piaf's hooves are off the ground, that brief second when you feel as if you're floating like a butterfly, that's when you let your arrows fly" said Erhi.

Yue urged Piaf into a canter, holding the bow with one hand and the reins with the other. When Piaf reached a good speed, Yue gradually let go of the reins and drew back the bow. He felt unsteady and tense, worried that he might fall off at any moment. Piaf felt this and grew skittish, so Yue tried to relax. He breathed out and cleared his mind completely. He let himself feel the rhythm of Piaf's hooves on the ground. There was a regularity to its gait, a measured stride that Yue tried to insert himself into, like a drummer keeping four beats to the bar. He drew back the bow, aiming for a passing tree. He waited, and waited, holding out for that moment when he felt weightless. But Piaf took a sudden jerking turn, breaking Yue's concentration and the arrow flew off into the tree tops.

Yue took his frustration out on Piaf, cuffing it round the ear. The horse came to an abrupt halt. Unprepared, Yue went tumbling to the ground. Luckily the grass broke his fall and he sat rubbing his behind as Erhi made her way over, admonishing him from afar.

"A bad rider shouldn't blame his horse" said Erhi.

"But...."

"No buts. It's not Piaf's fault, it's yours. Only cowards hit animals" said Erhi, sharply.

Yue looked away shamefaced, aware that he had let himself down in her eyes. She gently raised up his chin.

"Having said that, you are showing signs of great improvement. You're more relaxed and Piaf can feel that, he was really starting to fly before your little outburst" said Erhi.

"Thanks, I guess" mumbled Yue, still not bringing himself to look at her.

Erhi leaned down and gave him a brief peck on the cheek. Without explaining why, she offered him a hand and raised him to his feet. They both coloured and said nothing. To save himself from talking, Yue remounted Piaf and Erhi handed him another arrow. This time he would be more patient. There were still hours of daylight left before sundown. He touched where Erhi had kissed him and spurred Piaf back into a gallop, determined to hit the tree before the sun set.