They didn’t stop again until the sun was nearly setting. By that time, Mirabel’s body was bruised and sore from riding in the cart all day over the rocky road, and the horses looked like they were on the verge of exhaustion. While Mirabel had not been taught anything about fighting or being kidnapped, she had been taught about horses, and she knew that driving the horses so hard was not healthy for them.

They were not fortunate enough to find a convenient clearing this time when they stopped. Instead, they found an area where the trees weren’t packed so closely together and pulled the cart to the side of the road, parking it there for the time being. Mirabel was left in the cart while the men hopped out and began gathering wood in a small pile. Dmitri began digging through the bags, pulling out various food items and setting them to one side.

Through the trees, she could see the red-gold of the sun setting on the horizon, casting a fiery glow over everything the sun touched. It was beautiful. The golden hues settled across the sparse covering of pine needles, lighting them like strands of woven sunlight, while the leaves overhead were bathed in reds and oranges, making it look like autumn. She’d never seen anything quite like it before, even sitting in her garden.

She was distracted by the sound rocks scraping against each other, and she turned her head to see Boris leaning over the pile of wood that had been gathered, striking two rocks against each other over it. Sparks flew from the rocks with each strike until at last the wood caught fire, a small flame appearing.

Within a few minutes, the flame had grown to consume most of the pile of wood in it’s depths. The flickering fire’s hues blended with those of the sunset, looking as if a piece of the saturated sky had fallen and taken root on the earth. It dawned on her that perhaps that was why they had stopped now instead of later when it was dark; at this time of day, the fire was hardly visible, whereas at night, it would have been a beacon for all to see.

Throughout the day she’d been with her kidnappers, she’d been formulating her opinion on whether or not they were amateurs. The choice to stop at sunset was her final proof. These men were far from amateurs.

About a half an hour later, the dinner was finished cooking. This time it was a lumpy stew of sorts, no more appetizing than the morning’s porridge. Despite the looks of it, however, she downed it all. Her stomach was still far from satisfied, but the pangs had decreased, and for the moment that was enough.

After the men had eaten, they kicked out the fire and packed everything back up. Once everything was in the cart once more, Dmitri whipped the horses back into action. And so the galloping ride continued.

As the darkness began to encroach upon the forest, Mirabel found that she was becoming exhausted. She wondered at it; she had done nothing more that day than sit in a cart and be lugged around. It was perhaps less energy than she would exert on an average day. And yet there she sat, her eyelids becoming heavy.

Her body was sore, though, and every time the cart bounced over another bump in the road, her eyes snapped open again. Laying her head on her arms, she sighed. If this kept up, it would be an even more sleepless night than the previous one.

The men in the cart with her didn’t seem to be bothered by the constant jouncing. It wasn’t large enough for all of them to lie down, but a couple of them had curled up, bodies bouncing in time with the cart. It occurred to her that they were probably used to sleeping in the cart, or at least under similar circumstances. Not everyone had pillows stuffed with down, or padded quilts to layer on top of themselves.

Sadly, the thought did not do much in the way of comforting her. On the contrary, it set her to thinking of home again. While she had only been in the possession of her abductors for just over a day, it felt like an eternity.

She wondered about what was happening back at the palace; was her mother still planning the wedding, or had she put it on hold? Was her father organizing search parties for her? At that thought, she stopped herself. Of course he wasn’t. If they’d discovered she’d been kidnapped, which they almost certainly had, then he more likely would have set to questioning the guards. Or possibly sent out a party to follow the cart’s tracks.

With these thoughts occupying her mind, she almost didn’t notice when the cart slowed to a stop again. Almost. The men around her sat up as she looked around in curiosity.

The night had crept in, stars shining between the leaves overhead and casting the sole light on their surroundings, twinkling in time with each other. They appeared to have stopped in a small opening in the trees; it wasn’t quite large enough to call it a clearing, she decided.

“We can stop here for a few hours,” said Dmitri, calling back her attention. “We’re far enough from the border that I think it’s safe to catch a few winks.”

From the end of the cart, the bald man nodded. “Right.” With a jerk of his head to the others in the cart, they climbed out and began rummaging in the bags. He himself hopped down and started walking around.

“I’ll take the first watch,” he said after a moment, when the others had gathered their bedrolls. “Viktor, you’ll take the second watch.”

The men didn’t protest, simply nodding and laying out their thin bedrolls. Mirabel watched in vague envy as they lied down. While the ground didn’t look much more welcoming than the wood on which she currently sat, she still wished that she had a bedroll - however thin they might be - and the chance to lie on the grass, looking up at the stars.

Instead she worked herself into a position where she was lying down in the cart. She was on her side, so she couldn’t see the stars above her, but somehow she found it comfortable. Soon enough, she felt her eyes closing as she listened to the faint sound of the crickets from somewhere amongst the trees, until at last she drifted into unconsciousness.

The next time her eyes opened, it was still dark, and an unvoiced groan escaped through her dry lips. Licking them lightly as her eyes adjusted, she wished for some water. The last time she’d had a drink was with the stew at dinner, and it was no more than a sip.

“Get a move on, you big lumps!” she heard a hushed voice say. Pushing herself up a bit on her tied hands, she looked over the edge of the cart at the men stirring from their slumber. The man with the scar down his face, Viktor, was kicking at Boris. “You’ve had your sleep, now get up!”

Boris groaned, but lifted himself up anyway. Around him the others were doing the same. Viktor had already gathered his things and was now picking them up and carrying them to the cart while the others rolled their blankets and bedrolls.

Within a few minutes everything was packed and ready once again. This time it was Boris who climbed into the front seat while Dmitri clambered into the back. There was the familiar crack of the whip, and they were off again, bouncing their way down the road.

The men in the cart payed it no mind, simply adjusting their bedrolls into makeshift pillows and shifting into the most comfortable positions they could find. Mirabel, on the other hand, found herself mildly annoyed at the change of events. The first bit of sleep she’d managed to get, and it was interrupted by her kidnapper’s agenda.

Angrily, she worked herself back onto her side and placed her arms beneath her head as her own makeshift pillow. Shutting her eyes, she did her best to block out the rest of the world and it’s jolting pains and fall back to sleep.

Unfortunately, her brain wasn’t having it. Instead, she found herself thinking longingly about sitting in her garden beside the rosebush, and the stars that would twinkle overhead. Of how she would curl up on the bench, holding her slate close and, depending on her mood, sometimes draw what she was seeing. The stars, the blooming rosebuds, or even sometimes the fountain and it’s intricacies.

As these thoughts filled her mind, she slowly began to fall back to sleep, drifting away into dreams of roses and fountains of starlight; dreams of not being kidnapped, and of goose feather pillows. Dreams in which she wore a wedding dress as the music of nature’s sweet sounds played in the background. And for a little while, at least, she was at peace.

Morning came in a short burst of rain, waking Mirabel with a wet shock. It was no more than sprinkling, but it still came as a rather unwelcome surprise to the already bad-tempered princess. The men seemed almost oblivious to it, despite it having just awoken them just as well.

The cart continued to bounce along endlessly, the horses seeming to enjoy the cool water on their backs. Mirabel licked her lips again. The rain was not heavy enough to allow her a mouthful of water, yet it was heavy enough to be an unpleasant experience for her.

The whip cracked on the horses again, and the sound caused Mirabel to start in surprise. The horses jolted forward, galloping all the faster, and Mirabel winced as the lurching of the cart increased. The bumping caused her slight frame to bounce on every encounter with a rock, and her bruises became more and more sore.

A loud crack sounded through the air, and this time it wasn’t the whip. The cart tilted up on one side, causing everything to slide to the other side. The horses continued to tug, and pulled the cart over the obstacle. Another crack sounded.

The entire cart lurched to the right, and this time it didn’t right itself. The back right corner dragged along the ground, gouging a deep rut in the muddy road as the horses ran. The men in the cart held on tightly, but for Mirabel there was nothing to hold to, and she could only sit and watch as Boris attempted to slow the horses.

A long, tense moment passed, and finally the horses stopped, and so did the awful creaking noise that had started up. Mirabel relaxed, no longer in fear of being thrown from the cart. Boris jumped down from the driver’s seat and jogged to the back of the cart as the other men started to shout.

The bald man held up his hand and they quieted. “Thank you.” He hopped from the cart to the muddy ground and began to examine the corner of the cart. In a moment, he straightened and fixed the men with the coldest look Mirabel had ever seen. The men shifted uncomfortably. “The wheel is broken.” He pointed down along the road from where they’d come. “And most of it is back there now.” His eyes turned to Boris, since he’d been driving.

“Now what?” asked Dmitri, breaking what was becoming an awkward silence. The bald man’s cool eyes turned to him.

“We’ll have to leave the cart behind.” At this, there was a collective groan. “Shut it. We’ll have to leave the cart and make do with the horses. It’s either that or walk.”

After that, there were no more arguments. The men set to work condensing their travelling equipment into something easier to carry, while the bald man began unhooking the horses from the cart. Mirabel was carried to one side, out of the way of their operations yet again. She found it both amusing and degrading that they treated her more as an object than an actual person. Boris was the only one to have even said a word to her.

It took several minutes, but finally everything had been either packed onto a horse or onto a person, and they were ready to go. All save for one thing, that is.

“Untie the girl,” came the unexpected command. “She’ll have to ride one of the horses if we want to gain any more ground today.” The bald man then turned to address Dmitri. “You too. I’m afraid that limp of yours will only slow us down.”

Mirabel became somewhat excited at the prospect of being freed from her ropes. Her wrists were red and sore around where they had chafed at her skin. Viktor walked to her side and began untying her ankles, and she grimaced a bit. Her ankles were as sore as her wrists.

She was disappointed when he left her hands tied and led her to one of the horses, a palomino mare, sitting her on the top of it. She had hoped to be free of her bonds entirely, but clearly that was too much to hope for.

After Dmitri had scrambled on the second horse, a chestnut mare, they headed off, this time at a much slower pace due to the lack of the cart. Mirabel was glad for the chance to ride the horse, however; she’d had riding lessons and was quite proficient at the skill. Satisfied with the new, more comfortable, mode of transportation, they continued on with their journey.

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A/N Hello again, lovelies! Here's another chapter (two in two days :O You lucky ducklings) for you guys :3 Hope you enjoyed! You know the drill ;) Lots of lovels to anyone who does comment! xx