As soon as Mirabel realized they were heading out of the kingdom, she began to panic. If they left Lucerne, there was no way her father could send a rescue party without it looking as if it was a war party. While there was no doubt Lucerne could take on any of the surrounding kingdoms without much trouble, the last thing that was needed right then was a war. Her father couldn’t help her.

    A single tear rolled down her cheek in silence. Any hope she’d had of rescue was quickly slipping away like a dream forgotten upon waking. Through blurred vision she watched as the trees rushed by, the cart rattling along over the rocky road.

    She had been taught many things during her years of education, but one thing that had been neglected to be mentioned was what to do if one was kidnapped. She had never had any formal training in fighting; that was her brother Tristen’s education for when he one day became king. She would have appreciated some of his training; her knowledge of languages and dialects would be of no use to her now.

    She was jolted from her reverie as the cart went over a particularly large rock, causing the cart to bounce dangerously. For a moment she thought it would tip over, but with another bounce it righted itself and continued on.

    “Oi! Be a bit more careful up there!” called the bald man angrily over the sound of cantering hooves, gripping the side of the cart tightly. “We don’t need to tip over!”

    “Either fast or careful, make up your mind!” called Dmitri in return, gripping the reins tightly as the cart sped around a corner. “Can’t very well do both on a road like this!”

    The bald man growled angrily. “Just get us to Pommern. And quickly.” Dmitri didn’t say anything in reply, giving a two fingered salute instead as an acknowledgement.

    Pommern. Mirabel had never been to the neighboring kingdom before, not having been one to travel, but she knew of it from her studies. It was a smaller kingdom than her home of Lucerne, but it had the advantage of being mainly composed of good farmland. Back when Lucerne had been somewhat smaller, many centuries ago now, the two kingdoms had gone to war and Lucerne had claimed some of the land as it’s own.

    It had been many years since either of the kingdoms had warred with each other, however. Mirabel’s father was a peaceful king, preferring alliances to conquering, unlike his fathers before him. Tristen, on the other hand, seemed to resort to the sword before his own words. Her father was hoping to find him a wife that would temper his quick decisions.

    This train of thought brought Mirabel to her own wedding. Just over a week ago, her father had made plans with the northern kingdom of Winterthur for an alliance. Their agreement had been based on the fact that Prince Adrien was in need of a wife. Since Mirabel had only recently turned of age to be married, a deal was struck; had she not been kidnapped, she likely would have been waist deep in wedding plans by now.

    As she sat on the hard floor of the cart with her hands and feet tied together, her body aching from both the lack of sleep and the awkward position she was forced to sit in, she thought that perhaps planning a wedding wouldn’t have been so bad after all. It wasn’t that she’d been opposed to the marriage; it was simply that she loved her home. Marriage would mean moving to Winterthur where it was colder year round. While she thought she might enjoy the view the mountains afforded, she was used to warmer weather.

    The cart bounced again, and she winced as her body was jolted yet again. She was going to have bruises by the end of the trip, she was sure. Longingly, she thought of her bed at home in the palace. She would’ve given anything for a nice pillow right then. Tired as she was at the moment, having not gotten much sleep the previous night, the constant jouncing of the cart made it impossible for her to sleep.

    Instead she kept her eyes open, watching the scenery fly past. The men in the cart with her did the same, paying no particular attention to her. She shifted her weight around a bit, trying to get in a more comfortable position, but to no avail.

    Giving up, she leaned back against the wall of the cart. Frightened as she was of these men and where they were taking her, she couldn’t help but wonder how much longer until they reached Pommern. She was curious, she had to admit, having never been there before. She knew it couldn’t be too much longer; the forest they were in now stretched across the border and into the next kingdom over, Pommern. She wondered what it looked like there.

    The horses slowed to a trot, and Dmitri turned around. “We’re across the border,” he said, looking at the bald man. Mirabel glanced around at their surroundings. How could he tell? Even she didn’t know where the border was exactly in the forest.

    But the bald man simply nodded. “Keep going. We’re not out of danger yet.” With a nod, Dmitri turned back around to face the horses, whipping the reins. The horses sped out of their trot until the cart was again bouncing down the narrow road.

    The next hour or so was filled with the same monotony of trees and pounding hooves with nothing to alleviate the tedium. As it neared the afternoon, Mirabel’s stomach began to protest; the lumpy porridge of a few hours ago had done nothing to fill her belly, and, being used to three good meals a day, her stomach pangs were already beginning to cause her discomfort. This, added on top of the chafing of her ankles and wrists due to her bindings, was making the ride altogether a disagreeable one for her.

    The cart gave an abrupt lurch then, causing Mirabel’s body to be jolted into an even more uncomfortable position, and the horses could be heard attempting to skid to a stop. Unable to see what was going on in front of the cart, Mirabel could only grit her teeth as the cart managed to swerve to a stumbling halt.

    As soon as the cart had stopped, the men released their tight grips on the walls and hopped down to the more stable ground.

    “What the hell was that about?” the bald man cried out, anger evident in his voice. There was no clear response, and Mirabel, from her position - now lying on the floor of the cart - couldn’t see anything. Out of curiosity, she strained her ears in an attempt to hear what was happening.

    “What is that doing there? You said the road would be clear!” came a voice, though she was unsure whom it belonged to.

    “You expect me to know that a tree had fallen? I’m not a psychic!” After that statement, she could hear a bit of a commotion and she struggled to sit up.

    “Everyone just calm down!” interrupted another voice. “Look, it’s not too large. I’m sure we can get the cart over it.” There was a pause. “Alright, Boris, you and Viktor go and get everything out of the cart. I’ll help Dmitri unhook the horses so we can lead them around.”

    A moment later, Boris and the man with the scar - presumedly Viktor - came around the back of the cart and began unloading the travelling bags and placing them on the ground. As soon as all the bags were out, Boris climbed in and picked her up unceremoniously, tossing her over his shoulder like a bag of luggage. He hopped down to the ground, and she winced at the shock. Walking to the side of the road a few feet away, he sat her down against a tree.

    “Now, no running off this time, alright, lass?” he said with his characteristic cheer. He chuckled and straightened, walking off to help the other men. Mirabel shifted a bit to get more comfortable; while the grass was softer than the wood of the cart, being tied up had it’s disadvantages.

    Once she was settled, she glanced around at her surroundings. It looked about the same as it had when speeding down the road in the cart, she had to admit. The only particularly interesting feature in the landscape was the large tree laying across the middle of the road. It was an old tree with a thick trunk, rough bark covering the expanse. Gnarled branches twisted out like arms, some of them crumpled beneath the trunk while some pointed to the branches of it’s brethren overhead.

    It had probably fallen during the storm that had happened a couple of nights ago now; the winds had been rather strong, knocking over some of the trees by the village. Either way, somehow it had fallen, and it was now in the way of her abductors taking her any further, and for that she was glad.

    From where she sat, she could easily watch most of the proceedings involved in getting around the tree. Dmitri had unhooked the horses from the now empty cart, and he and the bald man were leading them around the roots of the tree to the other side. Meanwhile, Boris and Viktor had retrieved a coil of rope from one of the bags and were rigging it in a complex series of knots on the cart. It was all performed so efficiently that Mirabel could’ve sworn they must have done it before at some point.

    When they were done with the rope, they each took an end and climbed over the trunk of the tree. A few moments later, they climbed back over and went to the back of the cart. Giving a shout, they began to push it towards the tree. Mirabel watched with wide eyes as, slowly but surely, the cart was half rolled half dragged over the tree and to the other side.

    Viktor was quickly back, snatching up the bags and tossing them over the tree one at a time. Mirabel watched in amazement at the complete fluidity of the teamwork it had taken to get the cart over the tree. It had only taken a half an hour at the most.

    After the bags were over, Viktor walked over to her and slung her over his shoulder without a second thought. For a frightened moment, she thought he might toss her over as well, but then he instead took the same route the horses had, around the torn up roots and to the other side.

    By the time they got there, the horses had been hooked back to the cart and the rope was being wound back up. Boris was tossing the bags into the back of the cart again. Viktor carried her over and dumped her dismissively alongside the bags in the back.

    The horses pawed at the ground, seemingly anxious to get on with the journey now that they had rested for a few minutes. As soon as the rope was packed up, Dmitri once again claimed the driver’s seat and the other men piled into the back without a word.

    “Got everything?” Dmitri called, looking back over his shoulder at the men in the cart.

    “We got everything,” said the bald man while the others nodded. “Let’s go.”

    Dmitri gave a nod and turned back to the horses. He cracked the whip again and the horses jerked into motion at last, jumping forward and dashing their way down the rocky road, the cart settling back into the bumpy routine. Mirabel gave a faint huff of disappointment at the whole affair; if a whole tree couldn’t stop these men for more than a few minutes, what could?

====================

A/N New chapter :) Sorry if it's a bit dull at this point, it picks up a bit later on. Anyway, let me know if you enjoyed by dropping a comment or leaving a vote :) I love hearing opinions, so please, talk to me! x) Next chapter will be up soon. Lovels! xx