Amelie stood there for a couple of seconds, chin raised slightly as if she was brave. As if she was ready to face her fate. It was better to die with pride than cowering pitifully. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, and then noticed how he was putting his gun down. He wasn't going to shoot her? She allowed herself to breathe again, leaning heavily against Pierre's thick neck. As he spoke, she still watched him, concentrating hard to try to discern what he was saying. Scared, not wanting to die, a hurt leg and shoulder...

Amelie noticed the strange angle of his leg as he tried to move it, and then- oh. He'd fainted. Standing there, gusts of wind ruffling her loose pants and Pierre's mane, she stared down at his figure for a moment. He was an enemy German - what was she supposed to do with him? If she took him to anybody, they'd kill him. If she left him here, he'd die from his injuries. It was a risky idea, but if she took him somewhere on the farm - perhaps the old farmhouse - she could then figure out what to do next. After all, one of her cousins had been blond and around her age. What if it had happened to be him? 

The French girl took a few hesitant steps forward with Pierre, hands tight around his reins. Bending down, she decided the first thing to do was to get rid of that gun. She was shy about touching a stranger, but eventually took the weapon and skittered it a couple of metres away. Phew. Amelie proceeded to take his pack off, then pulled his arm around her shoulders. She was a little stronger than most girls, due to her upbringing on the farm, but he was still heavy for her. Pierre swished his tail as she hoisted the German over his back carefully. She swung up behind him and took up the reins.

Amelie set off toward home once more, this time at a walk. It took them about fifteen minutes to reach the farmhouse on the edge of the property. It wasn't used anymore, as they produced much less than what the farm used to. She walked Pierre inside and then gathered some of the old sacks. A couple of mice squeaked and skittered about and spiders looked down from the ceiling, but it was dry at least. She slid the German off her horse and then onto the sacks. Peering down at him, she wondered where to even start.