I am no one, I'm nothing

Capituli Viente dos

After resting for a few hours, replacing bandages, eating their share and allowing the fire to burn out, Aldonza, Pedro and Don Quixote saddled up and continued the day's journey towards the village of El Tobozo. As they steadily approached, Aldonza grew nervous, anxious and excitedly clutched the burlap fabric of Pedro's shirt. "What is it, mi gato?" He asked reverently as he steadied himself behind Don Quixote, who was leading the horse up a steep trail.

"We are close." She muttered, resting her chin on his shoulder so that she could speak into his ear for a more intimate conversation.

Pedro nodded at this observation and snaked a hand behind him, squeezing her thigh with reassurance as their feet bobbed together from the horse's jerking movements. "Pedro," Aldonza murmured, mouthing against his ear. "What if they aren't there anymore?"

"Impossible." Pedro exclaimed with rough finality. "They have to be there. They would not give up such a chance."

"But-"

"Look at what they have in their control, Aldonza." Pedro exclaimed roughly, though the gruffness was not directed to her but their course of action. "They have an inn, they have guests, they have the old man's farm next door. Hell, they have the knowledge that we are more than likely coming back, eventually. Why would they give up more riches than they've ever known simply to go back to their old lifestyle? I'll tell you why: They wouldn't."

Aldonza considered this and sighed heavily, moving her hands from his shoulders until they were squeezed tightly around his middle. "And what if they outnumber us?"

"They do." Pedro answered truthfully, turning his head to brush his nose against hers. "But we are stronger. We have an advantage. Hell, little kitty, we have a crazed lunatic-there's no telling how that last fact will prove for us, but I am leaning towards the idea that spontaneity will throw them off their usual course."

"And if we find Anselmo-"

"When we find him." Pedro corrected with tight lips.

"Si, when we find Anselmo, we'll-"

"Aldonza." Pedro interrupted, nuzzling his nose against her paling cheek. "We are going to win. So I do not want to hear any sad sighs, or what if questions, or final declarations of love. Because you and I are going to be able to celebrate when we kick their asses, when we defeat those who thought they could triumph over us. We are going to take back what we deserve, and we are going to avenge your father's death. You and I-we are in this for the long haul, and I will accept nothing less than victory. Do you understand?"

Aldonza nodded fiercely, a few tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "I love you, Pedro Antonin." She mumbled in a thick, honest voice.

"And I love you, Aldonza." He leaned backwards to place his lips on hers, moving them slowly at first before picking up speed, slurping through a loud smack as she moved higher to reach his. Pedro pulled away reluctantly as Don Quixote slowed the horse and they crashed together. They had reached the top of the hill, and pushing through the rusty gates, they entered the courtyard of the inn.

It was abandoned. The table was flipped, and the ground around it was littered with shards of glass, empty wine skins, ceramic plates that were smeared with rotting food and swarming flies. Planks of wood were ripped from the table's face and strewn about, as if they had been used for impromptu sword fighting, or battles to the death. The doors that led to kitchen swung eerily from their hinges; one was hanging on by quite nearly a thread, and it stumbled against the hay-strewn ground like a failing limb.