Alright, all. Thanks for sticking with it! I'll be going on vacation and I hope to come back with an inbox full of reviews. I should also have a couple chapters written then so it won't take so long to update. Hope you all enjoy!

Kayleigh left the old woman's house before the sky began to lighten, leaving a trinket on the old woman's favorite bench in gratitude for housing her. It was a ring, three strands of silver woven in waves around each other, which she had received from a tribe in Gaul.

She wrapped her cloak tighter around her torso as the morning breeze bit at her skin and hurried through the empty streets to the stables. The horses were still dozing when she entered. She tossed her bundle of belongings down and clucked her tongue at Fury, who woke and promptly gave her a nudge of warm welcome. "Ready to get out of here too, are you?" she asked before busying herself with feeding and watering the warhorses for the journey ahead.

Jols arrived heavy-lidded and red eyed as she warmed up Bors' horse.

"Long night?" Kayleigh asked.

Jols nodded wordlessly. Kayleigh didn't comment, her remaining bravado having been used up last night on Vanora. How could she have told Vanora that she would ensure their safe return? She couldn't promise that. She didn't know if she herself would make it back alive. Still, she found it hard to regret her words, having given her friend what little comfort she could.

Galahad was the first to report, ready to get the final mission over with. His mood was darker than Kayeligh had ever seen and made the horses uneasy and more difficult to manage. Thankfully, he took charge of exercising his own steed.

Slowly, the knights began arriving, Tristan and Dagonet striding in with purpose while Gawain and Lancelot dragged their boots to the task. Bors was the last to arrive looking worse off than any of them. Kayleigh imagined Vanora threatening him into coming back alive and unharmed before guilt, anger, and fear lured them both into a passionate early morning romp.

Tristan approached Kayleigh and guided her to an empty stall. "You coming?" he asked quietly.

"It was an easy choice," she replied. "The Saxons won't give me another chance to be rescued. They will give me a quick death, a mercy the Romans will not grant."

Tristan nodded. He could not give her any hope that these Saxons were unrelated to the last that invaded. An army large enough to take over the entire island would have intelligence of the last attempt and would not make the same mistakes.

"Give me your sword," Tristan said.

Kayleigh retrieved it from her bundle of belongings and handed it to him. The sword sang as he pulled it free from the scabbard. The golden lightning bolt along the blade flashed. Tristan admired the weapon and the skill it must have taken to craft such a blade. Looking closer, he observed tiny indentations marring the edges, marks of a warrior, marks made in battle. He glanced at Kayleigh wondering about the past they never spoke of and realizing that, though he knew more than most, it wasn't enough.

"It could use sharpening," he said and turned to join the other knights.

Silence descended on the stables as Arthur entered. Nothing was said, all words that needed saying, and some that didn't, were spoken last night. The Bishop was not too far behind and even Arthur looked surprised to see him there.

Kayleigh quickly turned her back, hiding in the protective cover of her cloak and hood. Toby's hackles rose at the scent of the man and those accompanying him, and began to growl.

"My trusted secretary, Horton…" the Bishop began, unfazed by the menacing dog.

"Horton!" he called, impatiently. The man inched forward nervously. "Will accompany you-"

"That dog!" one of the Bishop's guards yelled, pointing at Toby. "That's the dog that attacked me last night! It's that girl's-"

Kayleigh ducked down behind the low wall of the horse stall, her heart beating so loud, she thought they must know she was there.

The Bishop turned to glare at the soldier. "How dare you!" he said through clenched teeth. Then, remembering his audience, he turned to Arthur, a tight smile on his face.

"Jols, find him a horse," Arthur commanded at last.

"Godspeed as you fulfill your duty to Rome," the Bishop said in blessing, though is sounded more like a curse.

"My duty is also to my men," Arthur reminded him.

"Then get them home." The Bishop turned and walked out without another glance.

Anger fueled the men into working faster and soon they were ready to go. Kayleigh mounted her horse.

"You aren't going," Lancelot said in disbelief.

Kayleigh nodded.

"Tristan," Lancelot implored.

Tristan shrugged. "You can't stop an arrow once it's in the air."

"Dag?"

Dagonet shook his head and laughed. He knew her reasons for coming were valid and he would not try to talk her out of it. It was the right decision, no matter how much he wanted her to be as far away from the Saxons as possible.

"Arthur!"

"Let's go," was his reply as he urged his horse from the stables.

Lancelot could only make out a grin in the darkness under Kayleigh's hood before her horse followed, Toby on her heels. The knights burst from the stables to catch up with their commander.

"Try not to fall off!" Bors yelled over his shoulder to Horton. At his side, Jols laughed heartily at the sight of the secretary hunched over his horse's neck, gripping the reigns, and bouncing along unsteadily.

The Bishop watched from the Wall's parapets as the party galloped away and crossed himself.

"Sir," the guard dared to speak.

The Bishop waved him forward.

"Sir, that girl," he pointed to the rider whose furry companion ran at her side. "That girl, I know her."

"And how does this concern me?" The bishop asked, irritated.

"She is Pervidius' murder," the soldier replied. "The most wanted fugitive in the whole of the Republic."

"We'll stop for the night here," Arthur said decisively.

"Stop?" Galahad asked, perplexed.

"It's too dangerous to travel at night on land unknown to us," Arthur told him as he unbuckled the saddle's girdle. Jols rushed forward to take over the task.

"We've done it before. After the Woad attack earlier today, we shouldn't stop so they can take us in our sleep!" Galahad argued. Gawain shook his head. There was no use in arguing with their commander.

"He means," Bors interjected, "'If we don't stop, the Christian's going to fall off his horse.' And we aren't stopping to come back for 'im."

"Let the Woads have him. They would make a tasty meal of him," Galahad spat.

Horton slipped off his horse and stood for a moment on wobbly legs before his knees buckled below him. The men laughed as Bors helped the cleric to his feet, grabbing a fistful of his robes.

"Here we go, Christian," Bors said, laughing to himself at the nickname he had given Horton. The knight half lifted, half dragged the exhausted man out of the clearing and roughly set him down against a fallen tree trunk.

"Start a small fire," Arthur said, observing Horton's rain soaked cloak and his quivering limbs underneath. Kayleigh took the reins of Dagonet's horse as he set to the chore.

"Why do you suppose the Woads retreated today?" Gawain mused. No one wanted to admit that had the Woads not retreated, none of them would still be alive. It had been an effective trap the Woads had set and there was no reason not to finish the job. The horn had saved them just in time.

Kayleigh turned away remembering her run-in with Merlin. For whatever reason, he had ensured her safety. They had found common ground in their strange visions and respect for nature. That was one secret she could never let slip. Tristan would never understand if he found out she had spoken with the leader of his enemy. Not that she had sought him out, or even done so willingly. Leading the horses to a relatively protected grove to thick trees, she left the men to talk amongst themselves.

After seeing the horses cared for, she returned to the circle of light, the warmth of the fire a promising invitation. She sat between Horton and Jols. Bors complained to Dagonet that Vanora was nagging him to marry and give the children proper names.

"Women," Tristan scoffed. Kayleigh glared at him from across the fire and pulled her dagger dramatically from her boot. Tristan sheathed his sword, and feeling the darts she threw from her eyes without having to try to meet them, he changed the subject. "The children already have names, don't they?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

Kayleigh stopped listening to the banter and applied herself to digging the dirt from her nails with her dagger. She couldn't understand how this torrent rain did not bother the knights, some of them not troubling themselves to draw the hoods of their cloaks over their heads. A lot of good that did Kayleigh, her hair was soaked and clung to her face and neck like moss growing on a rock.

The rain began coming down harder, turning the warm fire into a muddle of steaming coals. Realizing she had been better off with the horses, Kayleigh rose and took her leave. She found a tree with a dry spot in the shadow of its great trunk and laid down there, propping her back up against its giant roots.

A twig snapped a few feet before her and she looked up to find Tristan looking down at her.

"You're unusually loud," Kayleigh stated, then closed her eyes to sleep, ignoring him.

"Didn't want to frighten you," Tristan replied. Kayleigh's eyes snapped open.

"Men," she said, mimicking his earlier tone. "Why would I be frightened?"

"Why shouldn't you?" he asked, raising a brow. "In Woad territory. You shouldn't be alone."

"I'm not." She shifted her cloak and Toby's wet head popped out from beneath.

Tristan shook his head. "He stinks worse than the horses."

Kayleigh laughed. "It will keep the pigs away," she joked.

Tristan's lip twitched. "But not me."