[center][h2]Kate and Trent[/h2][/center]
The foxes stole across the fields of Lacramur in the darkness. Darting over hills but mostly sticking to underbrush and low lands and rock outcroppings attempting to be invisible to the night hawks and owls that would dare give away their position. It was two of them, and if you watched carefully from your window, you might see the moonlight quiver as they made their way along. Kate and Trent were the two foxes, speeding along as fast as their tired legs could carry them. The alerted eyes of all creatures of the night looked everywhere, and they were being hunted.

Of course they did not attempt the incognito, Trent was too indifferent on things like that. Besides, the Gnome was stubborn as a cottonwood stump. They could not possibly drag him along while moving quickly. So they used the disguises to make him believe that they were going with Trent's plan only to reverse their strategy shortly after he had vanished. It was not easy going. Every bridge, every road, every perimeter and every wall was waiting for the two to slip up and approach. Everyone, and I mean everyone, was being stopped by guards and asked questions. Trent believed it was because the guard had found the Gnome, but Kate knew it was more than that.

At one point they witnessed some 5000 strong troupe heading to the capital. Completely ignorant of the way the world was twisting around them, the patrols were heavy, but what was not understood is that the sweep was only part of their orders as army after army was moved to key locations for a strike against the Meagher strong-points rooted throughout the land. If they were not subtle or quick enough to strike it would mean civil war... and in the world of a tyrant that was unacceptable.

However, this night, and even with the other pressing needs, a cavalry unit had spied the two fugitives, and now the end was closing in rapidly. Horses dug divots in the grasslands with a quiet clopmity-clomp muffled by the dead of night. The hearts of the fugitives made a louder thump as their ears ached to hear something more than the silence.

At first, they started to run towards a small village in order to hide in the streets, but Trent grabbed Kate's shoulder. Frantically he pointed in about a mile away. There was a black splotch of the landscape where the moonlight refused to go. It was the woods. If there was anywhere to hide, that would be the way to do it. [i]If[/i], that is, they could get there before the cavalry circled in. There were probably 100 mounted Rough Rangers, the elite cavalry that patrolled the wilds. There were 10 in this division, complimented by conscripted rangers and normal cavalry most of which were veterans. They were trained in tracking, archery from horseback, battlefield tactics, and spears. They were renowned for slaughtering fleeing Sotouri and uprooting bandit camps that outnumbered them. Each was well versed in each area they patrolled, knowing shortcuts, the locals, and the wildlife like the back of their hands. And, yes, they were so good at their jobs that they were closing in on Kate and Trent.

Without a word Trent and Kate began picking their way down a valley, only to suddenly notice a silhouette on a hilltop with a demanding perspective just off to their side. Trent pointed the other direction as well to reveal that there was another sentry above them. They pressed against the rock outcropping not daring to breathe much less move. The only thing saving their lives at this point was man's downfall... darkness. There was only black and silver at night. They would have been seen in a second if it was a full moon.

Hooves, more of them. A dozen more horses cut them off in front, blocking off the valley. Not that it mattered even if they tried to make a run for it. It would be a joke to run a mile in comparison to a horse.

Kate could feel the foolishness spark and ignite in Trent. He was about to do something stupid and desperate and probably do it to try to protect her again. However, a gallop broke the silence. Someone whispered to the Rough Ranger on the hilltop. Though the words were soft, the dead silence of the intruded night seemed loud, "Fire in the capital, sir. You can see the glow of the fires on the smoke from Eastridge.”

Perhaps it was their sheer exhaustion, but it didn’t seem that Trent was surprised by the news.

The troops seemed to lose momentum. Horse after horse began collecting atop the hill. Their attuned eyes all turned toward to the messenger. The noose was loosened for the moment.

Trent shoved Kate hard to start racing towards the forest. They would, of course have to pass that manor, but manors meant fields, elaborate grounds, civilization, and no longer be at the disadvantage to the Rough Rangers. People discussed the situation and the news as quietly as possible thinking that they had some sort of say.

Suddenly their momentum came to a halt and the two of them collapsed into each other. One of the cluster on the hilltop was looking their direction, and he would have spied the motion had they not stopped there in the shadow of a short ridge. Nothing but murmurs and their thunderous breath could be heard. They had passed the troupe now, and they were well on their way to the grounds and leaving the horsemen behind. Hours seemed to pass before the rider turned his steed to glance at his associates.

They moved, the hedges were not far now.

“Hai!” The soldier’s voice broke the night. They had been spotted...

With no other options Kate and Trent sprinted towards the grounds as fast as possible. Hooves thundered on the ground and it made each footfall seem humorously short and slow. Even as fast as they could run, the horses could easily quadruple it. In a matter of moments they were overrun.

“Stop in the name of the king!” A horseman demanded.

It didn’t really matter. They weren’t going to stop.

One horseman charged spear ready to strike the fugitives without caring who they might be. No one defies the orders of the king. However, he seemed to dismount in a sloppy mess, and actually collapsed into Trent. Then the truth became known, the rider was now covered in his own blood and rapidly losing life as he fell from his horse.

There came the clash of steel, and a scream of agony. The Rough Rangers were killing each other! Horses raced too and fro some with riders, some without. People struggled in the darkness locked in mortal combat. It was impossible to tell exactly what was going on.

A stray soldier hurried toward the two, screaming orders. “Inside, now! Go!”

He was bleeding profusely from an arm that hung dead at his side, but there was still fight in him as he stood as a rear guard.

“To me kingsmen! To me!” someone shouted from the inky night, his voice disrupted by the jostle of horseback as he rallied his men. However, conflicting cries of salvation from farther away could be heard. Salvation, that is, if they could survive.

“Rebels forever! Down with the tyrant!”

“Free on range! Free in spirit!”