Dream Lover

ELEVEN

Byron noticed the curious looks they were getting. They were still far enough away he was sure none of the women knew who he was. He also knew what they looked like, Elle had managed to turn two baggy pieces of male clothing into an ensemble nearly as unorthodox as the skimpy thing she’d been wearing the day before. She’d tucked the tunic into the waistband of the leggings until it was tight against her breasts, and then half folded the excess material of his legging so that they clung to her waist. The close cut of the leggings left little to be guessed about the shape of her buttocks and shapely legs. The other women would likely think she was a loose woman which might cause her some trouble. Taking a gamble Byron did something only married people did publically even if they lived out in the woods away from the social rules of the village.

He pulled her to her feet before he left and made a show of kissing her soundly on the lips.

She'd been smiling, enjoying teasing him and maybe the chance to learn a new skill since she’d mentioned she hadn’t ever washed clothes this way before. When he released her she looked a little dazed, a little flushed.

"I'll find you those vegetables," he said, then patted her rear end for good measure before he walked into the woods whistling.

Elle watched him go Then walked to the river and copied the stance the other women had in the water and began washing.

"You’ve yourself wild one, lass." An older woman called to her from her place a few feet up stream.

"I suppose I have." Elle answered back. She was still a little astonished, so much so that she didn't hear herself slip into the woman's cadence of speech which was a little like a bad impersonation of an Irish lilt. 

"My Tad used to be like that one, chased off many a trollop in my prime." The woman said smiling at fond memories past. "You keep an eye on that one," she warned. "My Tad's old and grey now and the young lasses don’t pay him any mind but that one you've got is young, strong, and handsome to boot. If you’re not careful some girl will have got it in her mind, she wants your place and the next thing you know she'll be coming at you with blood in her eye." 

"I’ll keep a sharp eye." Elle promised.

Elle had had more fun than she imagined she could have as the old matron in the river introduced her to other women as they came and went. She listened to gossip and they all gave her tips on how to get out tough stains like the stubborn grass stain Byron had on one of his shirts and even more fascinating solutions for wrinkles and loose women.

They were enjoying each other’s company trading stories about the antics of husbands and children. They were all laughing over a story about a blind old neighbor once mistaking a mischievous goat for his wife when he found it in the bedroom, and the rousing good time he’d had before his wife came in from gardening to see what the racket was about.

Pricilla was one of the prettiest women Elle had ever seen. She had hair that was a striking shade of red, big mossy green eyes and maybe a dozen freckles placed precisely over her cheekbones. She was tall, close to six feet and her preferred spot was on the far side of the river where the water about 6 inches deeper. She’d been half way into a story about her youngest sister’s foolish husband when something in the distance caught her attention. Suddenly, the gentle sound of water running over rock, wet fabric splashing in and out of the water, was drowned out by the thunderous sound of hooves approaching from the field just beyond the river where they were all washing.

"Run!" she shouted, as she turned abandoning her laundry to follow her own advice.

Not needing a second warning, Elle leapt from the river and headed for the trees. She was halfway through the clearing when she heard something wiz past her ear. In the same instant, she saw an arrow strike a tree and dug deep for more speed.

She was the first one to hit the trees. There had been five women besides Elle and Pricilla  talking in the grouping nearest Elle but more were scattered in other small groupings close by. There were maybe a 20 women total, but there were twice that many men by the sound of them. 

Pricilla came streaking through the trees next, she didn't stop at the edge as Elle had she kept running, head down, and singularly focused on escape and survival.

Elle hadn't paid any attention to the route she and Byron had taken to get to the river. Trying to run to the safety of the tree house would just get her lost. She found a sturdy looking branch conveniently shaped like a rough bat and busied herself snapping off the smaller twigs and leaves.

The end result was reminiscent of something she’d seen in a medieval weaponry exhibit at a museum once. Another girl from her group, Melissa, or maybe her name was Melanie came limping past the tree line next. She collapsed a few paces from where Elle stood. 

"They killed her," she wailed. Elle wasn't sure whom she was talking about, but she was sure her ankle was badly sprained and possibly broken. She wouldn't be running anywhere either.

Trying hard to keep fear from taking over, Elle ran down a list of things to do most of which were compiled from action movies and video games. She helped her new companion into the shadows of a tree whose roots fanned out like moss colored curtains and she made her a promise she probably couldn't keep. 

"We're going to survive this." She told her as she went back to retrieve her club and check the positions of the men, she only counted ten. The trees on the edge of the clearing grew so close together riding on horseback through it would have been a slow and careful process almost any healthy woman afraid for her life could outrun. They were all off their horses and headed towards the woods except two who were struggling to hold down a woman they captured the rest were either chasing or hunting the others.

Elle's stomach pitched one of them was headed right for them.