"I haven’t ridden a horse since I was a boy…" Liszt thought as the three mounted and prepared to go to Berlin, “I never expected that these would be the circumstances under which I would ride again…”
"It’s still nighttime, Robert," Clara commented, "so wouldn’t it be best to wait until morning to begin our journey?"
"Yes, it would be best, but we have no time to consider what would be best and what would be worse. We must leave now."
It began to rain as the trio rode towards Berlin.
The only sounds Franz could hear were the horses’ hooves as they galloped through the cold mud; the only thing he could see was his own horse’s head as they pushed forward rhythmically; the only things he could feel were the hard raindrops as they soaked his coat and struck his face.
Liszt thought he could see a forest ahead…
"Clara! Robert! Which way do we turn?"
He’d lost sight of everything save the horse’s reins which he clung so desperately onto as the trees loomed ominously close ahead. With no other option, he tried to turn the beast away from the woods, though the creature only panicked and ran into the forest.
"Stop!" Franz yanked on the reins.
The horse was whinnying in anger and beginning to rear up when the reins snapped and Liszt fell onto the unwelcoming, soggy earth.