"How many were there?" I asked the girl who stumbled along after me, still wearing her huge skirt and holding her torn shift together with one hand an... my arm with the other."Six, I think," she gasped, "Maybe five, no six. I'm almost sure."She was right. Two of the militia bunch were left, the man I had hit in the head, who sat with his back against a wagon wheel with blood running down his face and a boy, a tall youngster who was holding the horses.The girl and I stepped out of the woods, and. I took the tumbler back, and held it to her lips, she sipped, I put the tumbler down, took a sip of my own wine.I sat next to her, held her hand, hugged her to me. She had stopped shaking. After a while she was starting to initiate movement, and contact with me. We kissed, it was a comedic moment, while we tried to arrange our faces to fit each other. We laughed. I turned my face slightly, and gently pressed my lips to hers. As she lost her nervousness, gained trust, she opened her lips to my. More

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