Breathing

Damn Bandits!

Aramis took out the satchel he packed with extra supplies for the trip home. "I had a feeling I was going to need this," he thought aloud. He took out a linen cloth and tore it in two. Taking the halves, he pressed them into the wounds on both sides, applying pressure to stop the bleeding.

"What is going on?" Aramis yelled over his shoulder to d'Artagnan. "Why haven't we stopped yet? I need to take care of Athos and I can't do it while we're moving! Where is Porthos?"

"Porthos is up front with Captain Tréville. They're trying to find a good place to stop."

"We don't need a good place to stop—we just need to stop!" Aramis growled impatiently. "d'Artagnan, go up there and tell them we need to pull this wagon over now!"

"Dammit!" Aramis cursed as took away the linens, now saturated with blood. "Athos, could you help me out here and stop bleeding so much?" Aramis quickly found another strip to tear apart for use as a bandage.

Finally, Aramis could feel the wagon pulling to a stop. "Thank God," he muttered under his breath. "I'm going to need an assistant. Is the captain available to help?" The medic asked Porthos who appeared at the back of the wagon.

"What do you need me to do, Aramis? Captain Tréville asked, having overheard the question.

"I'm going to stitch Athos up with a temporary, easy-to-remove suture, to tide him over until we get back to the garrison. I need someone to help hold the edges of the wound together while I sew."

"Very well, I can do that." Tréville said as he began stripping off the excess accoutrements of his uniform, until he was down to his linen shirt.

"Porthos," Aramis turned to his friend. "We need every available waterskin you can gather from the men. If anyone happens to have a flask of wine as well—take it. I need water and wine for this surgery; hopefully, they'll understand."

"Tell the men it is not a request. Captain's orders," Tréville stated. "We have no time for negotiating, Porthos."

"Yes, Captain." Porthos turned to fetch the waterskins when he saw a small group of riders dressed in black approaching from the road. "Bloody hell! Captain, we're about to have company!" Porthos yelled as he unsheathed his sword.

"Oh God, you've got to be kidding me!" Aramis growled. "We don't have time for this, dammit!"

"Stay with Athos, Aramis. I'll see what is. . ." Captain Tréville was interrupted by gunshots and the distinct sound of a musket ball hitting the wooden wagon.

"Damn!" Aramis yelled as a ball came through the canvas covering of the wagon, just missing his head. "We need to protect Athos, Captain!"

Aramis threw himself over Athos to shield his friend from the flying bullets. Captain Tréville also draped himself over the lower half of Athos's body, each protecting the unconscious man as best as they could from the storm of lead.

Whizz!

"Damn!" Aramis cursed as a ball zipped by his ear, lodging in the wooden board near his cloak.

"What the hell is going on out there, dammit? Protect the wagon!" Captain Tréville yelled out the back during a lull in the shooting.

The captain could see two of his Musketeers engaged with the bandits, their swords glinting in the sunlight as steel crashed against steel. He watched as two other bandits turned to ride away but d'Artagnan and Porthos jumped on their horses to pursue.

"Oh no, you don't!" d'Artagnan yelled. "I'll be damned if you're going to run like cowards after you shot up our wagon!"

Porthos aimed his harquebus at a rider, hitting him square in the back. The man fell from his horse, while the frightened animal continued racing away down the road.