Micky closed his eyes and opened them again. Relief filled him as Peter and Davy picked him up.

"I thought you were dead," he stated softly, once he'd found his voice.

"With what we've been through, we wished at more than one point that we were." Davy told him. "Peter, he needs clothes. Think we can change him out with that bloke?"

Peter was already at it, stripping the clothes off the man who had raped Micky. "We'll take them with us. We need to move."

Peter looked over at Micky and noticed something odd. His cock was rigid but he saw only one sack. Dried blood ran down his leg. He didn't have time to ponder about that and why Micky was by himself. Mike would do anything, including risking his own life for Micky. "Guess Mike didn't make it," Peter thought with a deep twinge of sadness that he quickly suppressed.

Davy worked on getting the bloody shirt off the man Peter had stabbed. It scared him to think that something had happened to Mike; he would never have left Micky alone if he could help it.

Micky was still acting senseless, sitting on the ground watching his friends strip his rapist. It finally occurred to him. "Peter! You killed that man!" Micky whispered, staring at Peter with wide, startled eyes. (nearly screamed in hysterics.)

Davy looked over to Micky. "This is the second one he's killed today, Micky." He stated it in a flat tone.

Micky opened his mouth, aghast at the thought of Peter committing such a vile act. But, there was no time for explanations. Peter and Davy stood with pants and shirt in hand. "Come on, we gotta run," Peter commanded.

Since leaving the Lord's chambers, Peter had taken on the role of leader. Davy had been more than happy to let him lead. For some reason, Peter had been asserting himself in quite an uncharacteristic way since stabbing the Lord to death.

They took off into the woods, taking a dirt trail that led deeper into the darkness. A short time later, they came to a stream. "Come on, we'll wade down stream for a while. Maybe lose those dogs." Peter called back as he stepped into the stream where the water went over his kneecaps.

Micky stepped in and yelped because of the coldness. Davy was behind him to shove him on. "Come on, Mick, it's your life we're talking about here."

They continued down the stream. Micky got a chance to put the bloodied shirt on, but there'd been no break to put on the pants. Micky was dragging behind Peter. He was tired and hungry and feverish, but Davy kept prodding him on.

Peter stopped and was promptly plowed from behind by Micky and Davy. Peter turned to look at them.

"Signal next time," Micky growled.

"Why'd you stop?" Davy asked.

"Listen," Peter told them.

Davy and Micky both cocked an ear. "I don't hear anything," Micky told him.

"Exactly. I think we lost them."

With a sigh of relief they made for dry ground. Micky was happy to have a chance to put on the pants. They were dry compared to what Peter and Davy had to deal with.

Micky sat on the grassy bank. Peter sat down next to him while Davy stood, keeping post by looking up and down the stream. Davy was the first to ask the question. "Micky, where's Mike," he asked slowly, afraid to hear the answer.

Micky looked up at him, his eyes clouding with anger and sorrow. "That asshole Eric, he had him strung up to a wall, looked like he'd been beaten.... he...." The image of that stick through Mike's cock was so vivid in his mind.

Peter leaned over to Micky and put his arms around him. "What happened to you, Micky?"

The hug was Micky's undoing. Someone was there to hold him. He broke down with a sob and between gasps told them what had happened that night when Peter and Davy had been taken away. He told them what had happened to Mike.

Micky looked up at Peter with a sudden determination. "We have to get Mike. He's all alone in that place." Then he stood and stared down at Peter and Davy. "We need to go now."

Peter got up and took hold of Micky's arm. "Micky, we're not in the best shape here. We all need to get some rest so we can get him out."

"Plus we don't know where we are in regards to Dragoon's place," Davy pointed out.

"But we gotta go," Micky insisted. His eyes pleaded for understanding. "He's all alone."

"Mike will hang in there. As long as he has a little hope," Peter told him.

Micky shook off Peter's hold. "Peter, you didn't see him! He was hurting bad."

Davy walked up to Micky and tried to make him look at him. "Micky, we're all hurting. We have marks from our ordeals too."

"But Mike..." Micky pleaded, his voice beginning to sound frantic.

"Tomorrow, Micky." Peter told him firmly. "We need to find some food and rest."

"Fine! If you don't want to help him, I'll go alone." He started away from him, moving only by the force of sheer stubbornness and determination.

"Was he always this thick headed?" Peter asked Davy

"Only one to get through to him was Mike," Davy answered.

Peter gave a disgusted grunt and headed after Micky. He caught up with him quickly and once more stopped him with a forceful grip.

"Let me go, Peter," Micky growled out. "If you aren't going to save him, I will. I love him."

Peter wasn't surprised by that announcement, but he couldn't let Micky go. They were wasting valuable time arguing about it.

"This is going to hurt me more than you." Peter announced as he drew back his fist and hit Micky across the face. Micky looked surprised for an instant, then he staggered back and blacked out, falling into the ferns and leaves.

Davy came up behind Peter who was shaking out his hand from the blow.

"Why'd you do that?" Davy asked.

"Can you reason with him?" Peter asked as a reply. "Come on, help me drag him back to the bank. We'll set up camp there."

Davy took an arm and helped Peter drag Micky back to the stream. They lay Micky down on a dry clump of leaves and pine needles.

"I'll look for something to eat. You find some dry wood. We need a fire to dry our pants."

Davy nodded and headed into the woods. Peter looked once more at Micky. They all had their demons to face from this ordeal. He'd killed two people and he didn't regret it. He'd had to kill the Lord or Peter would have been at his mercy. As for Eric, well, he'd killed him to save Micky's life. Nope. No regrets whatsoever. Some of the cuts were bothering him, but he didn't dare complain. He couldn't. He had to be strong for them. If they didn't find Mike, Peter would have to take permanent charge. After all, he was the oldest.

Peter started walking along the stream bank. He had seen some berries that he knew that were okay to eat. He was hoping to find some tubers too. That would help satisfy their hunger.

Davy was back at camp working on starting a fire. He'd found some rocks and was trying to create a spark to catch on dry moss.

"I'm impressed." Peter dropped to sit beside him at the pile of sticks.

"Well I did camp once or twice with my friends." Davy replied.

Davy worked on stoking the fire and adding the sticks that he had found. Peter laid out berries and small tubers. "Not much, but it's better than nothing."

Once the fire was going, Peter took off his britches and laid them over a low branch. His tunic reached to mid thigh. "You better get those wet pants off," Peter advised Davy. "You don't need a cold on top of everything else."

Davy stood up and unlaced the front of his pants and moaned when he attempted to bend over.

"Let me." Peter got to his knees and eased the fabric down off Davy's hips. Peter stood and put the pants next to his. "How's your back?"

"It's fine." Davy tried to sound normal. He was pulling the hem of his shirt down to feel like we was covering his vital areas.

"Let me see it." Peter moved to lift the shirt, however Davy out-maneuvered him. Peter got a better hand on him. "Don't, Davy. I don't want you getting an infection."

Davy sighed and nodded. Peter lifted the shirt up. The whipped strips were swollen with some blood oozing.

"Davy," Peter sighed. He knew Davy must be feeling the fire of the marks. "Let me get a cloth and wet it. Take your shirt off and lay on it."

Peter took the knife and cut a strip off his tunic. He went to the stream and returned to Davy. Davy was on his shirt before the fire. Peter stopped short, seeing his bare ass in the firelight. He looked over at Micky who seemed to be still out in his dream world. Falling to his knees beside Davy, Peter had to override his desire to kiss away the pain. Instead, he began to carefully clean the raised welts on Davy's back.

With time and patience, Peter washed the welts. Davy did his best to keep his moans of pain to a minimum, knowing Peter was trying to help. Then he felt kisses to his ass cheek. Davy looked back to see Peter's lips kissing across to the other cheek. "Peter?" Davy questioned.

Peter moved to lie beside him. He brought his head closer and kissed him. The kiss was slow and exploring. Peter was careful to hold Davy close by his hips, and then he let his hand travel slowly to Davy's cock.

Davy moaned, this time with pleasure. He pulled away enough to whisper. "You play, you'll pay," he told him.

Peter smiled a shy smile. "I want you," he replied. Davy went to work on the toggles that held the tunic together. Peter lay back on his shirt. Davy lay on his warm body. Peter caressed his shoulders and held him close for another kiss.

"If anything, we have each other." Peter sighed.

"That's true mate."

Davy moved down to settle between Peter's legs. He slipped into Peter with some resistance. Peter gave a half groan, trying to suppress it so not to disturb Micky. Davy pushed in and settled inside.

"Okay?"

Peter nodded, his body having a hard time taking in the fact he did this willingly. Davy rose up and started making small movements. Peter felt Davy hit a spot inside and moaned. Davy felt the shift in Peter and felt him relax. Davy moved his hips deeper and Peter started moving to Davy's tempo.

"That's right Peter, give it to me," he whispered out in strain.

Peter felt something inside grow in feeling. Each time Davy stroked him it grew and his cock was full between them. He brought his hands to his cock and started to stroke it in time. Peter soon felt his body come from the inside out. First his insides gave way to have his cock cum over Davy. Davy made a few more strokes and emptied in Peter's ass. He fell into Peter's arms, exhausted from the strain.

Little did they notice that Micky had awoken during their tête-à-tête. Micky turned to see what the moaning was about and saw Davy on top of Peter.

"Fucking great," he told himself. He rolled back to face the trees and cried. Peter and Davy had each other. He had no one. He didn't even think Mike would still be alive if they got to him.

Peter held Davy carefully, but held him close. The heat of the fire was keeping them warm. Peter sighed. He was the one that had to keep them all sane. He hoped he was up to the job. He hoped he could fill Mike's shoes.