Unfortunately, luck was not with them that night. The rebellion was still fresh, and many rebel bands were out searching for fleeing royalists on the road. As such, one of these bands, a ragtag group of six men, happened upon the lone rider and her mare. Before the travelers knew it, they were surrounded with spears pointed at them.
"Ho, there!" Sneered the apparent leader. "What brings a fine looking lass out here with such a fancy steed?"
"Another one escaping from the palace, no doubt. She seems well-kept. No peasant, that's for sure," said one of the others, coming closer.
"No royal, either," the leader noted, studying Anya's hair color. "Witch stock, more like. Maybe a concubine."
Anya and Sassy did not like how the men's eyes lit up at this statement.
"Now, don't be getting any ideas, you lot," the leader growled. "We have a job to do. Besides, right now, the horse is more important to our cause." Stepping forward, he tried to grab the reins from Anya. "Now, be a good lass and hand her over, and we'll pretend we never saw you."
Sassy shied away from the man's hand and looked back at her rider desperately. Why was she not doing anything? Couldn't she cast a spell or something?
Seeing the look, Anya leaned down, pretending to calm the mare. Whispering into her ear, she confessed, "Sorry, my love. I used all my magic escaping the castle, tracking you down, and obtaining your tack. There is nothing I can do right now."
The black mare stomped a hoof in frustration. This was just dandy. If she got separated from Anya, what could she do? And if Anya insisted on coming with her, these men would no doubt take advantage of her.
Then, she remembered her golden horseshoes. Just as the man closed the distance again for another attempt at the reins, she thought, "Protect me!"