I'm kind of flip flopping on whether or not to cut the accent. I can say she speaks in a Irish accent and not write it out or continue to write her in a Irish accent. It's not really difficult, I just want to make sure I'm not totally fucking it up or making people lost when she speaks. Ehhhh I don't know.

Chapter 3

The late noon sky didn't nearly burn her eyes the second time Darcy woke up. Blinking away the blur that came from a mild migraine, she sat up and brushed her fingers over her forehead in the habit of running them through her dirty hair. To her confusion, her fingers ran across some kind of cloth that blocked their way. She touched at the fabric that was comfortably, if not a little tight, wrapped around her head.

"I wouldn't touch those just yet, my dear." The voice just about gave her a heart attack, making her body tense up. How could she had forgotten she wasn't alone? "The head trauma you received might still be tender."

And there he stood, Dr. King Schultz, looking as calm as if he were lounging in his favorite chair at home. As if he wasn't smiling down at the same person that attacked him only hours ago.

It had been only a few hours, right?

Her fingers trailed back over the makeshift bandages as Schultz simply watched her, his jacket slung over one arm.

"You're not worried I'll try to attack you again?" Darcy asked quietly, her eyes trained on nothing in particular for a moment before hesitantly turning up to look at him.

His eyebrows raised like he hadn't thought of that as a possibility, of course he had, but then he simply smiled. "Do you plan on attacking me again?"

She was quiet for a long moment. He clearly wasn't apart of the gang that jumped her. She would have defiantly remembered that odd accent and those fancy out-of-place clothes. He didn't look like the kind of person that would be camping out in the wilderness, more like he should be sitting behind a large desk in a fancy office. She took a second to glance at his perfect teeth. His smile was almost inhumanly kind and honest. Something in the back of her mind was irritating her. She had remembered something about about this man before she passed out, it was on the tip of her tongue. But a wave of nausea stopped her thought process in its tracks.

She winced slightly before mumbling her reply. "Not unless you give me a reason to."

They stared at each other for what felt like a unreasonably long time before his smile brightened. "Good enough for me," he said and gave a apathetic shrug, thoroughly throwing her off. "Now then, I would imagine you are simply starving."

As she watched him walk by, a small spark of resentment hit her. He wasn't threatened by her. At all, it seemed. He allowed her to just sleep off her injuries unattended as if she was a trusted friend and not a stra-

And like a slap to the face, she remembered. She remembered why his odd voice was familiar, and why his smile seemed so honest. Her eyes widened to an almost comical size as she stared at his back. He was still talking as he dug around in a bag but she couldn't hear a word he was saying.

"Well, my dear, maybe your heart is trying to tell you something." He shrugged, seemingly oblivious to the confused look in her eyes as he stared up at the stars above them. She didn't look away from him, desperate for him to explain himself. The porch creaked as she shifted, his words sinking in but not quite connecting.

Confusion quickly dissolved into annoyance as she shifted again, unintentionally scooting a little closer to the older man beside her. "What are you on about?"

He chuckled, somehow finding humor in the situation. "What I mean is, if you really don't want to be 'trapped' here, perhaps you should leave? You don't have to marry if you truly don't want to."

Darcy's frown deepened as one of her eyebrows raised at him. "You don't pay too much attention to how this country works do you? I can't really just say 'never mind, you bad bastard, I don't wanna get married.' I'll end up back in a field." She flailed her hands dramatically and gave a loud huff once finished. She sulked again, leaning her elbows against her knees and shook her head. "This is the better of two the evils."

King nodded slowly as he listened, that smile full of perfect teeth shrinking away. He knew well that women weren't treated well, certainly not Irish or Black women. What happened with Fontaine was rare, but he believed that if she didn't want to marry the man, then she shouldn't have to. "It is your choice, Fräulein."

"You're spewin' a whole lot of malarkey," she half-heartedly barked back, her accent thickening with her bitter mood.

She sent him a pointed stare but he continued, his eyes widening a little as a slightly playful smirk pulled at his lips. "There are no chains on your doors. Why, who's to say you are unable to slip out in the middle of the night and not return? I think it would be several hours before anyone noticed you were even gone. But, as you say, it is 'malarkey'."

She stared at him, hard, trying to figure out if he was pulling her leg or not. Was he serious? Did he think it was that easy to just leave?...Was it that easy?

"You're real cheeky, you know that?" It was hard to hide the smile that reached her eyes.

He chuckled, looking back at her with the most proud look in his eye. "Oh, you have no idea."

"-Wouldn't you agree?"

Schultz stood in front of her, a can of beans with a spoon hanging out was held out to her. He stared at her expectantly as if waiting for some kind of response. When she stared at the can, and then up at him with a very blank stare, his smile dropped.

"Are you feeling alright?"

She cleared her throat and quickly took the can, muttering out a quick "I am," before shoveling the spoon into her mouth.

The doctor didn't seem all that sure as he opened his mouth to ask again, but the sound of heavy boots crunching against snow caught his attention. They both turned to see Django approaching with a thick stick slung over his shoulder, several rabbits animals hung from it.

"Ah, good work Django! Seems we will be eating well tonight." He gave his partner a congratulatory pat on the shoulder as the taller man went over to the fire, across from Darcy. "Care to join us, Just Darcy?" Schultz grinned.

She shot him a pointed look but slowly stood up without a word, not fully against getting a full meal though she rather would have hunted for herself. She gathered up one of the blankets and wrapped herself in it as she got closer to the fire.

"That reminds me. Darcy, how is your wounds?" Schultz took his spot between the two of them and held his hands up to the fire to warm them.

"Just dandy," The redhead mumbled back, the sarcastic tone not lost to any of them.

It was Schultz's turn to give her a look and she stared right back. "Really." He pushed, not at all sounding convinced. "Because when you so rudely attacked me yesterday, I had to redo your stitches after you fell unconscious."

Neither of them noticed the way Django's eyebrow raised, staring between them questionably.

"That was yesterday?" She breathed, eyebrows raised in surprise as her hand ghosted over her side. A certain spot felt kind of hard and crusted.

"Indeed. And if the bandages are dirty, I would rather change them before the wounds get infected."

Her face hardened as she stared back up at him. "I can do it on me own," she stated flatly as her hand appeared out from under the blanket and she held it out to him.

Schultz gave a sigh and rolled his eyes. "You are behaving childishly. I know what I am doing. Trust me, when you are in my kind of profession you get very good at tending to wounds."

"Aye, right. Because being a dentist is real dangerous." She spat back, not noticing the way Django narrowed his eyes at her from across the fire. His knife stopped in mid slice momentarily.

Schultz gave a second sigh, his patience wearing thin with her attitude. "Fine, alright." He raised his hands in defeat and pulled out a roll of bandages, handing it over to her.

She nodded and stood up, moving away from the fire and behind some rocks where their view of her was obstructed. She began rolling her long johns down over her filthy brassiere to see the blood stained bandages around her lower ribs. Her nose scrunched up in disgust as she started to peel back the old bandages, the last layer sticking slightly and forced a wince from her. The stitches themselves were done very neatly. Two over the entrance wound and three over the exit wound. The skin around the stitches were red and puffy, and sensitive to the touch. She started to gently re-wrap them with the new bandages before pulling her long johns back on. Satisfied, she walked back towards the fire where the two men remained sitting. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of her clothes hanging over a stick. Probably left there from when they had to peel them off her freezing wet body. They looked stiff, no doubt the cold made them more like boards. When she got close enough to the fire, King and Django stopped whispering to look up at her.

"I have been meaning to ask you, Fräulein, why do you wear men's clothing?" Schultz smiled, attempting to redirect her curiosity away from whatever they could have been talking about.

"Easier to get work. And I get around without some fella trying to give me trouble. You'd be surprised how nobody notices you when you're fun bags aren't hanging out." Darcy shrugged, grabbing up the can of beans she had forgotten about. She noticed Django and Schultz exchange looks but didn't bother to comment on it.

"So you pretend to be a man?" Django spoke up for the first time, looking genuinely surprised. He hadn't ever met a cross-dresser before.

"Bang on," she winked, and peeked over the fire to see how far along the meat was coming. "That's looking good there, it is." Django's attention went back down to the rabbit bits that were speared on a stick. The meat was starting to darken to a good looking color. He nodded in agreement and held it out to her. With a real smile, she accepted the meat and bit into it before pulling back, fanning her mouth.

"That's quite clever of you." King said, also accepting his bits of meat and putting on his plate to soak up some of the bean juice. The sound of her giving a humored snort made him smile.

"Aww, naw. Met a aul doll who had been doing it for years. She picked me up and offered to give me a bed to sleep in. For sure thought she was trying to get me to roll in the hay with her. Gobsmacked me when I accidentally walk in on her in the bog and find shes got a fanny!" She chuckled, shaking her head. "That being said, she gave me some clothes and sent me on me way the next morning. Had the right idea, she did."

Django looked over at Schultz with the most perplexed look to see Schultz was also laughing, but the ex-slave had a feeling he was laughing more to be polite rather than he actually understood a damn word that came out of the girl's mouth. Feeling somewhat lost to the joke, Django decided to just bite into his meal instead of question it.

The smile on Darcy's face slowly faded as the humor left her. She had to wonder when the last time she actually laughed was. She couldn't remember.

There was a pleasant silence for a while before Django spoke again. "So, what happened to you?"

Darcy looked back up, seemingly confused for a minute before she realized what he was asking. She gave a heavy sign, not sure if it was good idea to tell them. She glanced between the two men who were now both staring at her. With some hesitation, she recollected the events from a couple of days ago. Starting with how she had been trying to get work for a couple of days in one town only to get rejected because she was Irish. Except for the one offer to become a prostitute. Supposedly, some gang had taken notice that she was a mouthy, free walking Irish kid with a good looking horse. She had to stop at the thought of poor Liam. God only knew how he was being treated...or if he was sold. The chances of getting back her horse was extremely thin. Refusing to let herself cry, she cleared her throat and continued, detailing how they had followed her out of town and ambushed her when she tried to run. A very grim look came over Schultz face when she said the leader had made her strip out of her hat and boots, and her shirt and trousers were next.

He stopped her there, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, to which she jerked away from. She sent him a accusing stare as he cleared his throat.

"They didn't attempt to violate you, did they?" He asked in a almost stern voice, the look of concern in his eyes hurt her for some reason.

She looked away from him, scoffing bitterly. "They didn't. Says I probably carried diseases and left me there."

"I'm sorry this happened to you." Schultz frowned, "But I can assure you that if you can identify these men, we can get you back your belongings."

As if she were literally burned by his offer, she suddenly straightened, staring hard at him. "No you're not. I'm gonna get me things back myself. I let that thieving dog take it from me like- like some kind of damn eejit an now those gobshites have it. I don't need your help fixing me own mistakes."

Schultz was taken back for a moment, blinking dumbstruck at her before speaking again. "But you must realize that you have better chances if it were the three of us. You can't possibly think you can take out a whole group of men on your own. Are you even handy with a rifle?"

Her eyebrows knitted together as she looked away from him, looking like she was caught in the act. "I don't-...but I don't need a gun. All's I need is a good knife and me fits, I do." She was being stubborn and she knew it but she was nearly foaming at the mouth to get revenge on her own. When did she ever need help with anything?

When she was almost forced into a marriage that she wanted nothing to do with.

That was different.

"You're very sure of yourself." Schultz sighed, and she stayed quiet, not denying it. "Well, there is a deceased man over there on that horse," he pointed to a smaller horse that stood with two others. "We are going to town tomorrow to collect his bounty. Seeing as you have nothing but the shirt on your back, you can have his boots and whatever else is to your liking. And if you would like, the very least we could do is assist you to town where we can go our separate ways."

Django stared at Schultz with what seemed like shock. It didn't seem like the doctor to just let this woman go on her own to get killed on a doomed mission of revenge. He clinched his jaw, looking back over at Darcy who seemed to be having an internal battle with herself.

No more was spoken on the subject as several hours went by. They sat around the fire mostly in silence or listening to Schultz tell stories from his homeland. They were interesting tales that had Darcy's attention completely eaten up. Just the way he told them made them all the more captivating. His hand gestures and the voices he would give the characters, even the facial expressions he put into it. It made her wondered why he didn't teach at a fancy school somewhere instead of...this.

After a point, they decided it was enough for one night. Schultz and Django stood up, where Darcy stayed sitting. Django was about to walk to his mat when he stopped and looked back at her. "You gonna' go to sleep?"

"Don't have a place to sleep, Fella." She shrugged, staring sleepily into the dying fire.

He stood there a minute before looking back over to Schultz who had also stopped. Django could see Schultz was about to make another offer, but he spoke up before the doctor could.

"Take mine."

Schultz and Darcy both looked at him at the same time. She shook her head. "I couldn't do that."

Django smiled, "I've slept plenty nights on the ground. One more won't hurt me none. Sides, I ain't the one that's been shot at." He grabbed a blanket for himself before thumbing over to his mat. "Get some sleep."

Darcy stayed seated for a moment before giving up and slowly getting back to her feet. The burning in her side had calmed down to a dull ache that could be ignored, which she planned to do. She thanked Django and crawled under the blanket.

She wanted to fall asleep but as much as she tried, she couldn't. She chalked it up to being unconscious for several days. After what felt like a couple hours, the light snoring sounds coming from Django told her that they were both in a deep sleep.

She gave it a little more time before pushing away the blanket and made her way to her clothes. It took her some effort to get them on, seeing as they were as stiff as the corpse she was about to turn her attention on. Once fully clothed, she approached the dead man slung across the horse's back. Digging through his pockets earned her a fairly large knife. She attached it to her belt before yanking the boots off of him and sizing them up to her own feet. They were a little too big, but that just meant she'd have to wear a extra pair of socks.

The sky was starting to turn an orange-ish pink color, telling her she had to get going. Silently, she thanked the two before packing up the few things she had and vanished from the camp's sight.

Schultz rolled onto his back, staring up at the slowly brightening sky. Why did she insist on being so stubborn? Was it really that hard to accept their help? He glanced over in the direction where she walked off. He knew he was allowing her to sign her own death certificate by letting her go, but what could he do? That wall she put up around everyone was going to get her killed. He sighed as he closed his eye for a minute.

Foolish stubborn girl.

Alistair Fontaine was known for being a tall and handsome man, and he was very full of himself. He was raised rich and spoiled, believing he could have whatever he wanted just by snapping his fingers. So when King stepped into his house, and found this fiancee he had been talking nonstop about was in fact a young looking Irish girl, he was fairly surprised. Out of all the women in town, he wanted to marry a Irish slave. He had heard the whispers about it when he came into town, but it seemed too odd to be true. Not many men would marry one of their slaves, especially a rich and well liked man like Fontaine.

She had smiled politely at him, but he could see how forced it was, and it looked more like a grimace to him.

"Isn't she just a doll? I am simply in love with her hair. You don't see real red locks like this very often, my boy!" Fontaine had boasted, even taking a few of her curls in his hand and fondly sniffing it. She glanced at her to-be husband out of the corner of her eye but didn't say anything. She looked like she was holding her tongue.

"Indeed..." King nodded slowly, not sure of what to make of all of it. He forced on a smile himself, "When is the big day?"

"In just a few days! That's why I asked for you. I can't be looking a dreadful sight on my wedding day. Don't you agree, my sweet?" He hooked his arm with her's, her pale arm dotted in freckles nearly blended in with his white suit jacket.

"Aye." She agreed simply, looking away into the corner of the room at nothing in particular.

The flash of despise only lasted a second or two but it was there long enough for Schultz to see. Even in the beautiful green dress, the big house, being on the arm of a wealthy man, she looked like she was a slave. She looked trapped.