Ignoring the scratching of the rocks that grated her cheek, Ryder managed to twist her head in the new voice's direction.

A man dressed in dark suede pants, a fitted white button down, and a black leather jacket, was causally leaning against an apricot tree, his arms crossed in front of his broad chest. The leather hood of the jacket was pulled up over his head, casting a shadow over most of his face.

Ryder didn't know whether to rejoice at the new presence or weep harder at her bad luck. She had made the mistake of assuming these three men were safer than wolves when she first heard them.

The thin man responded to the newcomer's threat, "Oh is that so? Well as the odds are in our favor. Why don't you be the one to be on your merry fucking way, and we'll let you live." The venom in his voice was practically dripping.

The stranger's mouth pulled into an almost disturbing smile. "I was hoping you'd say that."

The thin man was too focused on the stranger to remember to keep pressure on Ryder's aching chest, and her lungs hungrily absorbed the increased flow of oxygen. Her mind finally able think of something other than, 'need air'. Now able to think, an opinion formed on the random person that had stumbled upon her darkest moment, she knew he wasn't a threat to her. But trust wouldn't do much if he couldn't get her out of there.

Ryder felt the vibrations rumble through the ground as the two other men stepped forward in front of the thin man, who stayed where he was. She figured he was the one in charge of guarding their prize, her.

The stranger lazily pushed himself off the tree and made his way into the middle of the aisle. Part of Ryder wanted to yell that he should save himself, but then another much louder part of her wailed in horror at the thought of being left alone again at the mercy of these three men.

Now that the man was away from the shelter of the tree, she could see a hilt of a sword jutting out from behind his back. She couldn't believe someone could walk around with that kind of weaponry and not get arrested, even in the country. The boot on her chest twitch, it seemed the thin man hadn't seen the sword until now as well. Ha! She thought, enjoying the idea of the man above her feeling very real sensation of scales shifting out of his demonic favor.

The two other men spread out around the stranger, giving him a wider birth than they had given her, clearly, they were warier of the armed stranger than a teenage girl. Both men dug in their pockets, each producing their own switchblade.

The stranger didn't flinch at the sight of his opponent's weapons, if anything his smirk deepened. He stood patiently, clearly not in a hurry to do anything. The big bear of a man began to toss his knife back and forth. Trying to intimidate the stranger, but it didn't have a visible effect.

The tension was palpable, Ryder caught herself holding her breath, it was like the calm before a storm unleashes its building fury.

The stranger fluidly flowed into a fighting stance. This gesture seemed to be the catalyst for the looming fight. The bear of a man yelled and ran for the stranger, knife arm cocked back, ready to be thrust into the stranger's gut. Half a heartbeat after, the shorter, fat man jumped forward beginning his attack as well.

Ryder was terrified, the direness of the situation all too real. No matter what happened she was about to witness someone being mortally wounded. And if the wrong person got hurt she would most likely be following them to meet the death ferryman at the Styx river or whatever death threshold proved to be right. Oh god, she didn't want to find out.

She couldn't help herself, she yelled, "Look out!"

Her eyes struggled to make sense of what they witnessed. The stranger barely moved, he effortlessly redirected both men's attacks, stabbing both with their own knives, each falling heavy to the ground in turn.

Ryder lay staring at the two motionless bodies. The bear of a man had fallen so his lifeless eyes stared back at her. Her brain reeled, still clambering to make sense of what had happened. She had seen Olympic level martial artists before, but none had moved as fast as the stranger had, and unlike the Olympic athletes he had actually delivered the killing blow.

Her wide eyes shifted back to the stranger, He wasn't even breathing hard. His black leather hood hadn't even moved, it still sat perfectly shadowing his face.

She wanted to see his face.

She was brought back to her own body as the boot on her chest slammed down hard on her, knocking the wind out of her again. The thin man's desire to keep her from escaping was achieved; she was unable to breathe let alone move.

"I'm going to gut you like a pig." The tall man spat, but he was unable to hide the quiver in his hands, as he pulled out his own switchblade. Which sprung to life, revealing a large well-kept blade.

Despite the fact that Ryder was still struggling to catch her breath, she forced her body to rollover. Her arms shook with the effort of moving her battered body. She might not be able to run away, but she was not going to miss what happened.

The stranger's shadowed face no longer held a smile, his jaw now clenched tight. It almost looked as if he were shaking. She couldn't believe he could be scared, he had just beaten two men without even taking three steps. There could only be one other reason for the tremors, rage.

The stranger reached up and over his shoulder, grasping the leather wrapped hilt of his sword. In one fluid motion he pulled it free of its sheath. Ryder couldn't remember ever seeing a sword like the one the stranger held in any painting, or in a museum. It was slightly curved, like a katana, but the blade wasn't made of steel, it glinted bright and bronze.

The stranger, still slightly shaking, broke into a crouched run. His form matched that of a tiger in hunt.

The thin man let out a wild cry, arm raised above his head, knife ready to bear down, leaping into a run. But before the thin man could even bring his arm halfway down; the stranger took one smooth slice with his sword. The blade seeming unencumbered by any bones moved effortlessly through the man's arm and neck. His screams not even able to finish their final note, the sword ending them prematurely.

The stranger ended his perfectly executed exicutoin with his back to the thin man, no need to fear a retaliation. The thin man crumpled to the ground, his lifeless body showing no opposition to the collapse.

The stranger stood motionless for a few moments, his head down, but his stance clear that he was poised for another hidden attacker. When none came, he plunged his sword into the hard earth, then pulled it free and wiped away the after math of his fight on his suede pants. Once the bright blade was glistening once again he returned it to its sheath on his back.

Ryder still lay motionless, grateful that the thin man's body had fallen away from her. She had no desire to see what dismemberment he had endured. She did, however, have a sickening view of his feet as they sporadically twitched.

She couldn't hold back her involuntary reaction to heave. She wasn't sure if it was caused by the three lifeless bodies that lay around her, or from the reality that she had just narrowly escaped a brutally dark experience of her own, not more than a mile from home.

She just wanted to lay down on the ground and cry herself to sleep, she was completely exhausted. Her whole body shook as she came down from her adrenaline high. But she knew the event wasn't over, there was still one more person she had to face. She had accepted that he was not there to hurt her, but that didn't change the fact that he was a complete stranger that had just killed three men, in an extremely medieval fashion, right in front of her.

She knew she had to keep her wits about her. With that conclusion, she forced her shaking body up off the ground, and did her best to stand up straight. Pain flared in her ribs as she tried to take a deep breath. It was bad, but she knew none of her ribs were broken, they were merely badly bruised. She had felt the pain of broken ribs two years ago when her horse Sasha had spooked at a large gopher snake and thrown her into one of these very apricot trees. Maybe she should consider avoiding this damn cursed orchard.

Once the waves of pain had passed, she raise her head and looked to the stranger who still had his back turned to her. His hood had fallen off his head revealing sandy blonde, wavy hair, which was cut short on the sides with the top being longer and flowing back. She couldn't help but notice his broad shoulders and how perfectly his unique clothes fit him.

She was anxious to see the face of the man that had saved her.