"So...am I da only one who is getting' a bad feelin' about dis?"

Amy stared up at the dark mountain rising up in front of her out of the middle of the forest. Beside her, Patrick was massaging one of his many perforated spots.

"The things I am currently feeling can certainly not be described as 'pleasant', Miss Amy."

"So...we're gonna forget about dis for tonight? We're gonna turn around and spend da evening in a comfy inn?"

He sent her a look.

"Aye. I thought not." Taking a deep breath, she tightened her grip on her revolver. "Shall we?"

"Yes, let's go."

And, together, they strode out from between the trees, making their way up the slope of the mountain that rose like a craggy spike out of the landscape. For a while, they simply walked in silence, until finally...

"Patrick?"

"Yes?"

"Da one who tried ta ambush us...did ye notice anythin' odd about 'em?"

"No, why?"

"Well, I've bin thinkin' about it. I didn't get a really good look, but dey seemed...small ta me."

"So the man we have to take down is probably not very big and strong. How exactly is this a problem?"

"It isn't, except—"

Clack!

At the sound, Amy's head jerked around. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted several stones clattering down the mountainside and, at the top of a cliff, a familiar small figure darting away.

"There!" Patrick called out, racing after the figure. "Move!"

"Oy, wait a minute!" Amy called after him. "Maybe we shouldn't—"

But he was already around the bend of the path.

Cursing under her breath, Amy raced after him, muttering about the stupidity of good-hearted men. Rushing in head-first just because his morals and basic human decency told him it was the right thing to do? Stupid! Why couldn't she have taken up with a decently devious deviant instead?

On the other hand...she didn't really have a justifiable reason for her strange feelings of suspicion. It probably was all in her imagina—

Rumble!

Or maybe not.

Dashing forward, Amy tried to catch up with Patrick—which turned out to be a bad idea, considering the bloody rockslide currently crashing down the mountainside towards him. Towards both of them!

Blast, blast, blast! Why did I think dis whole bloody venture was a good idea again?

Ah, right. Conscience. Morals!

Well, morals could go frig themselves!

"Run!" Amy shouted, in case His Lordship's noble brain cells weren't capable of drawing that conclusion on their own. "Run, now!"

She wasn't quite sure whether he heard her or not, but he definitely ran. Quite fast, in fact. But fast enough?

Rumble!

Crap! Why try temptin' fate, Amy? Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Dust roiled around her. Bits of rock and splintered trees pinged off her back. The ground shook beneath her feet, nearly making her fall.

Then she saw it! Her salvation! Just a few yards ahead, there was a bend in the path, and beyond, a niche in the rock wall of the mountain.

Yes! Just a few yards more! A few yards...

Thud!

She threw herself so hard into the alcove she nearly gave herself a concussion. Then she nearly got another one when an aristocratic missile slammed into the wall right next to her, just an instant before—

CRRRAAASH!

Not many people would ever be able to experience a landslide rushing past you from no more than a yard away. Amy could well have done without the honour, though. The dust, the shaking earth, the ear-rending cacophony of breaking rock...

It was spiffing! Really spiffing! Just how she had planned her little vacation in the country!

Just ye wait, Patrick! Just ye wait till I get my hands on ye!

She would be choking the son of a bachelor responsible for this shit show of a situation, if the thick dust weren't already doing the job for her. Unfortunately, it was giving her the same treatment. Hacking and coughing, she waved her hand, trying desperately to dispel the thick cloud of particles in the air. What the heck was she supposed to do now? She was close to suffocating! What could she—

Yes! That's it!

Grabbing her coat and plastering it over her face, she was finally able to drag in a breath without dust and debris. Although...

On second thought, it might have been a bad idea to purchase her clothes from Freddy the Fisherman. Ugh!

A final rumble of rock from outside abruptly cut off her idle thoughts. Then...silence.

"Do you...do you think it's over?" Patrick enquired.

"Why don't you go out and check?" she suggested sweetly.

Amy swore he was about to do just that—Blast all blockheaded buffoons who take things too literally!—when they heard a noise from outside.

"What—"

"Shh!"

Clamping a hand over his mouth, Amy leaned towards the exit of the alcove. Half of it had been buried in rubble, but light drifted in through a remaining opening. And along with the light came the sound of footsteps.

Patrick's eyes flicked over to hers, and their gazes met.

"Is it him?" Patrick mouthed.

Amy grimly nodded. Apparently, the hunter had come to check the kill.

There was just one little problem with that...

Picking up her gun from where it had fallen on the ground, Amy checked how many bullets were left.

Da kill ain't dead yet! It's alive and kickin', and ready ta retaliate!

Raising a hand, she pointed at herself, then gestured to the left. Next, she pointed at Patrick, and gestured to the right. The message was clear.

I circle around on the left, you on the right.

He stared at her for a long moment—then nodded. Hefting his pistol, he slid out of the alcove, Amy hot on his heels. Outside, a massive mountain of debris was piled up, and the footsteps were coming from the other side, heading to the top. Glancing at Patrick, Amy saw he was already moving into position, so she did the same. With quick steps, she moved towards the left and crouched behind a massive rock, waiting for her prey.

The footsteps reached the top of the rocky hill and slowly started to descend. Amy tensed, edging forward until she was barely still hidden behind the rock.

Any moment now...any moment now...

"Now!" Leaping forward, Amy barrelled into the figure coming down the slope as hard as she could. In a blink, she sent the bastard tumbling to the ground. A moment later, Patrick jumped from behind his hiding place and grabbed the would-be killer, putting his pistol to the temple of the...scruffy little girl?

"Don't move an inch, foul villain, or I...or I..."

It was only then that Lord Patrick's noble brain seemed to catch up with his eyes. With a yelp, he dropped the gun and almost leapt out of his fancy leather shoes.

"What the—!"

But he was cut off by the little girl stabbing her finger at him accusingly. "Hell! I drop a whole mountain on top of ye, and ye still ain't dead yet? What da hell are ye? Cockroaches?"

By the look on His Lordship's face, that was not something he had been previously accused of. Opening and closing his mouth, he let go of the girl—which proved to be a big mistake.

Wham!

"Oooph!"

Stumbling back, His Lordship clutched his stomach, and instantly, the little girl aimed another kick at him. Amy watched with a mixture of interest and disapproval as the kick connected. She would have to have a word with Patrick about upping their training sessions. If he could be taken by surprise with an attack like that, he needed some...gentle encouragement.

"Let go! Let me go ye twat!"

But that would have to wait for later. Amy narrowly dodged a swing with an improvised club. The girl seemed to have decided that, now that Lord Patrick was taken care of, Amy was the perfect new workout target. She dodged another blow aimed at her head, then grabbed the girl's hand and, with practised ease, pried her fingers open, making her drop her only weapon. Or at least that's what Amy thought before the girl's other hand came up with a hunting knife clutched in her fingers.

"Blast!"

Leaning sideways just in time, Amy felt the cold draft as the knife whizzed past her cheek only inches away. Before the girl had time for another swing, Amy grabbed the incoming arm and slammed it to the ground. Something that turned out to be bloody hard for an imp who was a third her own size!

"Grraah! Let go! Let go of me, ye tramp!"

Amy cocked an eyebrow. "And why would I do dat?"

"So I can stab ye!"

"Sorry, not interested."

The string of curses that came in answer to her words were most impressive, and that was coming from a woman who was professionally trained in dirty talk. Behind her, she heard cautious footsteps approaching and, a moment later, Patrick's befuddled figure appeared beside her.

"Err...the one intent on hunting and killing us is...a little girl?"

"Ha!" The brat snorted. "Me, 'unting ye? Dat's a fine case of da pot calling da kettle black!"

"Not just a little girl," Amy corrected, meeting his eyes. "The little girl."

His eyes widened. "You mean...?"

"Aye." Amy nodded, turning back to gaze at the little brat. "Dat's her. Da one we've bin lookin' for."

The girl's face darkened. "So I was right! Da two of ye are after me!"

"No, no!" Lord Patrick hurriedly waved his hands. "We aren't after you! Well...in a way we are, but—oomph!"

He was promptly interrupted by another foot to his stomach. Stumbling back a few feet, he clutched his abdomen and stepped forward again.

"No, wait, you don't understand! We aren't after you for the gang that kidnapped you! Well...technically we are, but only because we're preten—arrgh!"

This time, the foot hit a little lower, right into Patrick's...

Oh dear.

Amy grinned. And here she had thought he was only a lord. But to judge by the agonized groan, he was actually a king! After all, only royalty would be permitted to clutch crown jewels so tightly.

"Somehow," she informed the crumpled form of the man, "I get da feelin' ye ain't doing a very good job of explainin' things to 'er."

"You don't say?" he wheezed.

"Let me go!" the little brat demanded, flailing her legs. The only reason she hadn't pounced on Patrick yet was that Amy was holding her down with both arms. "I'm gonna kick 'im in da balls again!"

"As entertainin' as dat might be," Amy told her regretfully, "I'm afraid I can't let ye."

"As entertaining as that might be?" His Lordship echoed.

Amy chose not to answer that. Not at all because ignoring him right now was highly amusing, oh no. She was just too distracted by her concern for the poor little girl they had finally caught up to.

The poor little girl who was still trying to wriggle free and punch Amy in the face.

"Oy! Stop dat!"

"Give me one good reason ta!"

"We're 'ere ta save ye!"

The girl froze. Whatever she had expected, it obviously wasn't that. Her eyes narrowed at Amy in suspicion.

"Ye're lyin'!"

Amy shook her head. "No."

"Aye, ye are!"

"No, I'm not."

"Prove it! Let me go!"

Amy smirked. "Ye see," she said, nodding in Patrick's direction, "if I were a good person like dat fellow over dere, I'd do just dat and get punched in the face for me trouble."

The little girl nibbled on her lower lip, avoiding the older woman's eyes. "No, ye wouldn't!"

"Ah. In da stomach, den?"

"Well...aye."

Amy nodded. "Which is why ye're staying right where ye are. But..." Pulling out her revolver from the folds of her dress, she threw it aside towards Patrick. "...I ain't 'ere ta harm ye."

Eyes still narrowed, the little girl cocked her head. With bits of underbrush entangled in her frizzy hair and smudges all over her face, she looked like a suspicious woodland fairy.

"Who are ye?"

"Da name's Amy. Care ta introduce yerself as well?

The girl hesitated. Then...

"Issy."

"Well den, Issy. Willing ta listen?"

No answer.

One corner of Amy's mouth quirked up. "If ye listen, I might let ye kick Patrick again," she graciously offered.

"Hey!"

Hesitantly, the little girl nodded. "All right den. Talk."

Amy took a deep breath. "Very well. It all started a few months ago..."

***

Lord Patrick Day sat there on a rock and watched Amy and the girl take turns explaining what had happened to lead them here.

The girl who threw you in a pit full of hedgehogs. The girl who kicked you in the—

He winced, wishing dearly rocks were softer to sit on. Best not to think about that.

One thing was abundantly clear, though, by now. There was no one hunting the girl. At least not anymore.

"...and den dere was da third one who came after me," the girl exclaimed. "'e was so fat and ugly, so I thought, why not show 'im 'ow important it is ta be light on yer feet? I dug dis pit I filled with sharpened spikes, and—"

Lord Patrick shuddered. Suddenly, he felt very, very fond of hedgehogs. Hedgehogs were wonderful! Amazing!

"Now it's yer turn ta finish yer story." Turning an intense stare on Amy and himself, the little girl speared them with another suspicious gaze. "Ye told me about 'ow ye two infiltrated dat gang. Say for a second I believe ye—which I don't—'ow da 'eck does infiltratin' some gang in London bring ye to some frozen forest in da middle of Scotland?"

"Well...ehem..." Amy cleared her throat, and Lord Patrick was suddenly very glad that he wasn't the one doing the explaining. "Ye see, it's like dis...in order ta get into da gang, we've gotta prove our loyalty ta dem. And in order ta do dat, we've gotta...well..."

The girl's eyes narrowed. "Ye've gotta what?"

"Captureyefordem. But we're not gonna—rrrgh!"

His Lordship felt the corners of his mouth twitch at the sight of the knee buried in Amy's gut. Adjusting his posture to get a better view of the show, he leaned forward. "How disappointing, Miss Amy. I would really have expected more from an experienced fighter such as yourself."

"F-frig ye, too!" Amy wheezed, clutching her stomach with one arm while she tried to hold down the little female stick of dynamite with the other.

Lord Patrick didn't flinch at the obscenity. He didn't even blink. "I'm afraid that will have to wait until the two of us are alone."

Her mouth dropped open just slightly.

Ha! Got you!

Then he wondered just what had happened to him to be proud of that. And more importantly, what had happened for him to seriously consider taking her literally?

Ehem, well, anyway. Back to more important matters. Such as Amy still trying to avoid getting beaten into a pulp by an imp half her size.

"Ow! Stop that, ye! Ye don't understand—"

"Don't understand what? Dat ye wanna catch me and sell me ta da highest bidder?"

"Ow! Like anyone would pay money for ye in da first place, ye little—agh!"

"That," Lord Patrick informed her, "was probably not the wisest thing to say."

"I don't need any advice from ye, Mr Nutcracker!"

Lord Patrick's noble eyebrow twitched, and he had to work hard to keep his hands from instinctively shielding his crown jewels. He was about to open his mouth and shoot back an irritated remark, but held himself back and drew in a deep breath to calm himself.

This wasn't the time. The antics in front of him might be rather amusing—but only until one remembered there was a bleak reality behind it. If it hadn't been Amy and himself appearing here in this forest, but a real gangster...

He shuddered. So far, judging by the fact that the gang had sent new recruits after her as a test, they saw her as a low-level priority. Something for grunts and thugs to take care of. But if the two of them didn't return successfully with the "package" in tow, the next one sent on the mission would likely be a professional.

Something which might still happen if they didn't get back fast enough.

Squaring his shoulders, he stood up and strode towards the squirming pair. They had to move. Time to end this.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a certain letter and, unfolding it, held it out in front of the little girl's face.

She froze.

"What's dat?"

"Do you know your letters?" he answered her question with a question.

"Aye."

"Then read it."

Suspicion once more flickering on her face, she reached for the crumpled sheet of paper and started to read. Her expression continued to darken with every word. But mixed in with the anger, there was also clear confusion. Finally, she glanced up.

"Why...why would ye show dis ta me?"

"Because we meant what we said earlier," he told her, looking straight into her eyes. "We're here for you, but not to bring you to them. We're here to save you."

"Really, now?" Her eyes narrowed. "And 'ow exactly are ye plannin' ta do dat?"

His Lordship frowned. "What do you mean?"

She waved the letter. "Dis thing...it says dey want ye ta bring me ta dem. In fact, ye need ta bring me ta dem. If what ye said is true, it's da only way for ye get into da gang and save all dose other girls. So..." Tensing, she levelled a hard glare at him. "What are ye gonna do with me now?"

--------------------------------------------------------

My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,

Dramatic decision time! What path do you think Amy and Patrick will choose?

Yours Truly

Sir Rob