They first met seven years into Tristan's service in Britain. It wasn't by far the first time he'd run into the blue warriors from beyond the wall, but it was the first time he's stumbled across one so far south. He wasn't scouting, was just riding along the forest, stretching the legs of his warhorse. It had been a quiet month and all Sarmatian Knights were restless; Arthur, sensing the tensions and tempers about to snap, had sent Tristan out riding and set others with various tasks within and just outside the fort.

He had just turned around, ready to head back to the fort, when he sensed more than heard that he had company. Whoever they were, they were quiet moving along the treeline just out of his sight. Scouts, Tristan thought retrieving his bow and sword and slinking off into the woods to track down the intruder. The longer he was at it, the more his respect for the woad, and it was undoubtedly a woad, grew. He was yet to catch a glimpse of them, although he heard an occasional sound that told him he was still following them.

He wasn't sure how long the chase continued; he was sure that if he doesn't catch them soon, Arthur would send out search parties for him. With a burst of speed, he overtook the ghostly woad and got a first glimpse of his quarry at a small meadow.

It was a girl, hardly even a woman yet, all bony angles and lean muscle, but he could tell she would be beautiful with some meat on the bones and in a few years' time. Her hair, a peculiar combination of red and brown and blonde, was piled messily on her head, beads and feathers adorning braids throughout, her wide brown eyes watching her surroundings attentively. She was dressed in the usual leather garb with skins, a long knife at her waist and bow and quiver full of arrows on her back. Her skin was smeared with paint, intricate designs etched onto her skin along with markings that signified her station.

In her hands she carried a small bird, barely a month old, if he had to guess, cradling its body protectively.

Not sure what to do, but not wanting to have to kill her, Tristan decidedly stepped on a twig to alert her to his presence. Her eyes snapped to his and she abruptly stopped in her tracks eyeing him warily, noticing his distinctly not roman armour, marks on his face and barely drawn bow.

"What is a woad doing so far south of the wall?" he asked quietly, eyeing her tense stance. She didn't even bother trying to reach for a weapon.

"I would have thought it obvious, scout," she replied tersely. "Well?" she lifted an eyebrow expectantly, jerking her chin up in defiance. "What are you waiting for? Shoot."

"Are you that eager to die?"

She smiled almost amused. "No. But I know the rules. One thing," she slowly stepped to a small tree stump and lowered the little bird onto it. "She needs care. Take her with you, scout. They make for loyal companions."

With that she stepped back and raised her arms slightly as if inviting him to kill her. He stalled, thinking.

"My name is Enid," she suddenly said.

"Makes no difference to me."

She smiled at his curt tone. "Maybe you will bury me. And I for one, like to know the names of people I put in their graves. What is yours, scout?"

"Tristan," he finally replied after a pause. He lifted his bow and let the arrow fly, impressed to see no fear show on her beautiful face. The arrow struck the ground by her foot. "Seems I shot and missed, eh?"

She picked up the arrow and tucked it into her quiver. "I owe you, Tristan. I will not forget it. May your tread stay light and your aim sharp, scout." With that she inclined her head and jogged into the trees, easily disappearing from his sight.

"Enid," he tried the name quietly. He knew they would cross paths again as surely as he knew the sun rose in the east and set in the west. Until then, he thought with amusement and went to retrieve the bird she left behind in his care. It was a falcon chick, recently hatched and obviously hungry as it started screeching loudly as soon as he picked it up. With a grimace, he arranged it in one hand and swiftly headed for his horse intent to leave before the racket attracted someone to his presence.

The trip back to the fort had gone by faster than his ride out. It was possibly due to the many conflicting thoughts he had running through his mind about the woad he'd met and let live and the bird he was now saddled with. The bird quieted down some after he'd fed it some dried meat he'd had tucked away in the saddle bags, but still squeaked almost indignantly every time he jostled it.

He was admitted in and headed straight for the stables, having nothing of much interest to report to Arthur and needing to settle the annoying bird before it drove him mad with its chirping and screeching. The people of the fort parted for him easily some with scared nervousness, others with interest; he'd made it to the stables undisturbed and once inside, looked around for something to make a nest for his feathery companion.

"God gracious, what's that noise?" Tristan stifled a laugh at Jols' exclamation as the man approached him curiously.

"We have a guest, Jols," Tristan showed him the bird he was holding. "Have you something for it?"

"I'll have a look," he hurried to the backroom, puttering around in there, before coming back with an old cooking pot with a small hole in the side. "This should do."

Tristan nodded absently, setting the bird down onto the wall of his warhorse's stall and stuffed some straw into the pot. Deeming it as good as it will get, he hanged the pot on the torch holder near his stall and transferred the bird into its new home.

It was quiet as it shuffled around, investigating its surroundings, before starting to chirp again. Jols and Tristan exchanged a look as the bird's calls grew louder and louder, more demanding before Tristan huffed a curse and found a dead mouse a stable cat had caught. The bird stopped to devour the mouse and once done, it almost curtly dismissed the two by tucking its head under its wing and settling to sleep.

"Well," Jols finally said with amused exasperation. "At least it's quiet now."

"Indeed," Tristan nodded his thanks to the man before heading out of the stables to find Arthur and the rest of the knights.