Meeting The General

Lara hastily reached into the side pocket of her backpack, fingers brushing against the coarse fabric before pulling out a mask. With practiced ease, she secured it over her lower face, the material snug against her skin.

Aramis watched her lazily, amusement flickering in his sharp gaze.

"What's with the mask?" he drawled.

She adjusted it without looking at him. "Dust. I don't like inhaling it."

The tall guard looked at him strangely. Hadn't he traveled without it for some time now?

They continued their journey, and for the first time, they rode side by side. No games, no reckless galloping. Their horses had endured enough, and they both knew it.

"We'll need fresh horses in the next town," Aramis muttered.

"Can I keep, Chestnut?" Something in her voice softened, a quiet gentleness she hadn't intended. It was a tinge of gentleness unique to a woman's voice.

Aramis cast her a sideglance. He looked thoughtful.