I open my eye.  Someone splashed me with water.  I can taste the metallic flavor from it sitting all day in a rusted bucket.  “What? Where am I?”  I try to get a sense of what is going on.  I’m on the floor.

“Ugh!”  One of my ribs cracks.  Another punch to the chest makes sure it’s broken.

I look down at the feet of at least a dozen men.  Each starts to take a turn at me.  I loose consciousness only to be awaken with another splash of the cold water from the rusty pail.

I would collapse if I could but my hands are tied to the post above me.  I feel all my energy draining out from my wounds.  This is not the way I want to die.  I brace myself for the final blow.

“Agh!”  The soldier standing before me loses his grip on his rifle.  It falls to the ground.  The other men attempt to pull out their rapiers as a lone figure drops between me and them.  The mysterious figure disarms the men and pummels them each at least twice before running to my side.

The figure approaches my ear.  “Milagros sent me,” they say.

“Who are you?”  My voice is hoarse, dry and just above an audible whisper.  I muster enough energy to speak but I have a hard time blinking away the blood out of my eye.  A gash on my forehead is not allowing me to see clearly with the blood oozing down onto my brow.

“I’m going to cut your ropes and I want you to run the best you can. You will be needing a healer.  Ride the horse back to your home.”

My rescuer was a woman by the sound of their voice.  She hid her face behind a mask, only allowing her wild eyes to be visible.  She helped me up onto the horse and gave it a good slap in the rear.

“Go!” She commanded.

“Wait! What about you?”  I try to shout as loud as I can as I gallop away.

“I’ll be all right.”

She sped away quickly, jumping over obstacles like a fox or coyote and ran on all fours.  And I am certian I saw a tail trailing behind her.  Her pursers on horseback had no chance of catching up.  She was gone into the darkness, leaving me to make the quick trek home alone.