Echoes of the Rapids

The sound of rushing water filled the air as we approached the riverbank once more. The river, swollen from recent rains, surged with a fast and unpredictable current. The same river we had crossed months ago now appeared even more treacherous, its churning waters reflecting the gray sky above. I pulled my horse to a stop, narrowing my eyes as I scanned the turbulent waters.

“It looks worse than before,” I muttered, tightening my grip on the reins.

My gaze drifted to the baby strapped securely to my chest. James rode up beside me, his expression grim.

“It is not safe to cross on horseback.”
“Not with him.”

I nodded toward the baby, whose tiny head rested peacefully against my chest, blissfully unaware of the danger surrounding us.

“We do not have much choice, do we?”

I glanced down at my son, feeling the warmth of his small body through my cloak.


“How can we make it across?”

James dismounted, splashing into the shallows as the water lapped around his boots. He grasped the horse’s bridle, murmuring soft words to soothe the nervous animal before turning to me.

“We will cross together.”
“I will carry him across.”
“You follow behind with the horses.”

James stepped closer; his eyes filled with the calm assurance that always eased my worries.

“I will keep him safe,” he promised, gently reaching out to take the baby from my arms.

I exhaled, feeling a wave of relief as James cradled our son, holding him with a tender embrace. I dismounted slowly, my boots sinking into the wet, muddy bank. I removed my cloak and draped it over one of the horses to keep it dry, then took hold of the reins of both animals, steadying them as they sidestepped in the growing wind.


James waded into the water, the baby secure in one arm while his free hand gripped the rope tied around his waist, linking him to the horses. Each step was careful and deliberate as he tested the depth and strength of the current. The water swirled around his legs, and I could see the strain in his shoulders as he fought to maintain his balance.

“Be careful!”

James did not look back, his focus solely on the river. His boots slipped on the slick rocks beneath the surface, but he quickly regained his footing, tightening his grip on our child. The water surged up to his waist, threatening to pull him downstream. James pressed on.

I followed cautiously, leading the horses into the water behind him. The animals were skittish, their hooves clattering against the rocks beneath the surface. I whispered soothing words to them, keeping my movements calm as I matched James’ pace.

The cold current tugged at my legs, unyielding and fierce. My heart raced as I kept my eyes locked on James, who was now almost halfway across. I could see how carefully he held our son high above the water. A wave crashed against James’ chest, and my breath caught in my throat as I saw him stagger slightly. He quickly regained his balance, adjusting his stance to protect our child. We were so close to the opposite bank now; I could see it rising just ahead. The current grew fiercer, fighting against us, trying to pull us under.

“James!”

He glanced back at me.

“Just a few more feet!” he yelled over the roar of the river.

With a final push, James waded toward the opposite shore, the water reaching nearly to his chest. I watched as he strained against the current, finally pulling himself and the baby out of the river and onto the bank. Relief surged in my chest, but it was short-lived.

My horse slipped on the rocks behind me, rearing up with a panicked whinny. I clung tightly to the reins, trying to calm the animal, but the sudden movement knocked me off balance. I stumbled forward, the force of the river threatening to sweep me away.

“Isabella!”

James shouted, already moving to help me. The current tugged at my legs, pulling me deeper into the water. Panic surged in my chest as I struggled to keep my footing, the river wrapping around me, dragging me toward the center. James reached me just as I lost my balance completely. His strong arms wrapped around my waist, hauling me upright. He grunted, pulling me toward the shore.

Together, we stumbled out of the river, collapsing on the bank. My heart pounded, and I leaned against James for a moment, my body trembling from the cold.

“I told you it was too dangerous,” he muttered, breathless as he shifted the baby in his arms.
“We made it.”

Our son stirred in James’ hold; his tiny face was peaceful despite the chaos we had just endured. I reached out, brushing my fingers gently across his cheek. James met my gaze, his eyes softening as he took in the sight of our child.

The last rays of daylight flickered through the trees as the remaining fifty men approached the riverbank. The weary soldiers looked toward the turbulent waters, their boots caked in mud from the journey, faces drawn with exhaustion. We were just visible on the other side, now safe and waiting, but the river still stood as a daunting barrier for those left behind.

Captain Rowan raised his hand, signaling for the company to halt. The men obeyed, their horses snorting and pawing at the ground as they surveyed the river. Rowan’s eyes narrowed as he studied the current—still dangerously fast, swollen from the rains—but there was no turning back.

“Alright, men,” Rowan barked, his voice cutting through the sound of rushing water.
“We will go in groups of five.”
“Tie ropes between you and keep close to the horses.”

Rowan led the first group into the icy water. His horse, a strong gray stallion, followed closely behind, the reins securely looped around his wrist. The others mirrored his movements and roped together for safety as they cautiously began their crossing.

The river surged around them, powerful and relentless, tugging at their legs as they fought to maintain their balance on the slick stones beneath the surface. The horses stumbled but pressed on, driven by the steady hands of their riders. The first group made it across without incident, pulling themselves and their horses onto the opposite bank where we stood ready to help. Rowan untied the ropes and signaled for the next group to begin their crossing.

One by one, the soldiers crossed the river in small groups, each facing the same battle against the current. Some stumbled, others nearly lost their footing, but with the help of the ropes and their comrades, no one was swept away. The sound of rushing water filled the air, accompanied by the shouts of soldiers and the anxious whinnies of the horses.

The final group made it across. Rowan gave a satisfied grunt as the last of the men emerged from the water, soaked but alive. Their armor and cloaks dripped with river water, but they had made it. The company was intact.

“We need to set up camp quickly.”
“The men are spent, and it will be dark soon.”

Fires were soon lit, their warm glow a welcome sight after the cold, treacherous crossing. The soldiers moved with practiced efficiency, unloading supplies from the horses and setting up tents along the tree line.

The horses were led to a grassy patch near the river. The animals whinnied softly; their breath visible in the cooling evening air as they finally rested.

I stood near the center of the camp, my son nestled in my arms, watching the men work. The baby slept peacefully. My eyes flicked between the soldiers and the darkening sky. James joined me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. The fires crackled, casting long shadows on the trees, while the scent of woodsmoke filled the air.

“Looks like we are in for a cold night.”
“We have been through worse.”

I glanced down at our son.

“At least he will be warm.”

James nodded, his gaze lingering on our child.

“He is tougher than he looks.”
“Just like his mother.”

The last of the tents were set up and the fires burned brighter. The nursemaid emerged from the group and approached us. Her face was earnest as she gestured toward the sleeping baby.

“Is it alright if I take him for a moment?”
“I can help settle him.”

I carefully passed me to the nursemaid, who cradled the baby gently against her chest. James and I stepped aside, sharing a quiet moment as we took in the sight of our little camp. The men laughed and shared stories around the fire, the warmth of camaraderie replacing the chill of the river.