1. Zoe Warbeck

This was great. Just great. Perfect, as a matter of fact. She, Zoe Warbeck, was stuck in the middle of nowhere. And not just in the middle of nowhere, she had a sprained ankle. And it bloody hurt. So she was literally stuck, in the middle of nowhere, but that wasn't all; it was raining. Hard. So hard that, even cowered underneath a tree (which, yes, is against everything her grade two teacher told her, but she really didn't care) she was getting soaked.

'Fuck.' Zoe spat out, shivering. She huddled into a smaller ball and looked around. It was hard to see much past the rain, but maybe her friends would realize she was stuck out here. Maybe. If they hadn't gotten into the vodka already. And if they did figure out she was gone, maybe Mike could come around in his jeep and get her. If she trusted him to drive her home-his driving was bad without the addition of alcohol.

Why had she agreed to this in the first place? Oh yeah, that's right. It had sounded like a bit of fun. Go out to Susan's place for the week, get away from it all. With enough alcohol and good company, it'll be great, yeah?

But she'd been dragged out on nature walks. She hated the outdoors. Really, really hated the outdoors. Which was, actually, probably why Suze'd dragged her out of the house in the first place.

'It's not healthy to be so pale!' Suze had been tugging on her arm. 'Put the book down and make your way quietly to the exit. Or not so quietly,' she'd continued after plucking the novel from Zoe's hands and ignoring her squawking. 'But you are coming walking with us. To the river at least.'

So she'd dutifully put on her shoes, wondering how on earth she'd ended up with friends so outdoorsy. A few kilometres later she wondered the same thing, just with extra puffing.

How had she, chubby, pale little Zoe, become friends with these strong athletes? They were so energetic. And tanned. And fit. They just kept going. Simon had even carried her when they got bored of listening to her complaining about bugs, being out of breath or that she could be back in the house with a good book.

She was riding on Simon's back when they reached the river, and she was feeling incredibly embarrassed about being so unfit, but it had been worth it. Seriously. It was beautiful. Like a piece of faerie land in modern Britain. Mike had laughed and ruffled her hair. 'Knew you'd like it here! You and your fantasy obsession.'

She'd spent most of the day there. Her friends had cavorted in the shallows, splashing each other and Brittany had even gone skinny-dipping. But then, there wasn't a guy there who hadn't seen all of Brit and she'd never exactly made a secret of it, either. Her boyfriend wasn't too happy, though. Zoe'd stayed well away. It was summer in England, but that didn't mean the rivers weren't bloody freezing.

They sent Simon, Brit's boyfriend, and Andy back for lunch and they came back with caveman food, as Brit called it. Meat, meat and more meat. And these guys were two of the most promising young rowers in the country.

'Chicken, cold lamb and ham does not a lunch make. Particularly when I'm a vegetarian!' Suze had whacked them over the head while Zoe laughed and munched on a chicken leg.

Later, after the guys had gone to get 'real' food for Suze and Brit (who were both on totally unnecessary diets), Zoe had started humming to herself while the girls were having a water fight. The guys had got back and Simon, who was annoyingly good at everything he did, started to regale them with songs of his choice. Usually corny 80's rock 'classics'. He only shut up when Andy and Suze had crept up on him with a shirt dripping with water and dumped it over him.

It had been one of those fantastically lazy days, where you're never bored, but not necessarily doing anything. They'd spent a good hour at least lying in a huge pile-limbs everywhere. Sprawled all over each other, they'd talked about everything from their uni courses, whether high waisted jeans looked hideous to Mike's insane theory that Paris Hilton is actually a CIA agent in a very good disguise to Zoe's plans to travel to France or Iraq to become fluent in French and Arabic, and they all poked fun at her desire to learn Latin, of all languages.

Then the weather had started to turn, and her friends had decided, quite impulsively, on a race back to the house. Last one there (Zoe excluded) got cleaning duties. It wasn't far-if you were national-class football players or star rowers like they were. Zoe wondered again as her friends dashed off, how exactly had she ended up with friends like these.

'We'll see you back at home soon!' Suze had yelled, waving back at her as Zoe had tried to hurry along after them. 'Take your time, babe.'

'If I'm not back in an hour send Andy with the jeep, I don't want Mike driving!' Zoe yelled after them, she remembered shaking her head and walking backwards to catch a last glimpse of the river. And she also remembered how utterly stupid she'd felt after tripping up. And how she'd not been paying attention to where she was going and hurting her ankle.

So. That's how she got stuck in the rain, in the middle of nowhere, in the dark without her friends actually knowing where she was. They were probably passing round the vodka by now. And maybe Suze and Simon had cooperated for long enough to get dinner ready.

And, to make things even better, she detected a thunderstorm. Actually, more than detected. The rain came down even harder and the wind really started to blow. And lightning.

'Just. Fucking. Brilliant.' Zoe mumbled. She stood, somewhat shakily and tested the weight on her ankle. Not great, but she could walk. And it wasn't that far to the house, surely. Her friends had run between the house and the river before, and she was a fair way from the river.

Because the lightening was getting closer and Zoe had an aversion to lightening. As in, she didn't want to get hit by it. And sitting under a tall tree in a lightning storm is probably not a smart thing to do. And Zoe had always believed she was a smart person.

So, just when she'd decided she'd make as much of a dash as she could for the far-off safety of the house, there was a flash, brighter than the others. So bright, that everything turned white for an instant.

'Shit.' Zoe gasped in grudging admiration. 'Fucking big lighting strike.' She shook her hair out of her face and kept hobbling on as best she could. She was starting to get cold and she was looking forwards to a nice hot shower and an even hotter dinner.

xxx

A/N: Yeah, I know, nobody's going to read this, but I'll put it here anyway. I know it's a terrible cliché, but I wanted to try it. I'm trying to keep my character, Zoe, from becoming a Mary Sue, although the story invites one in the first place. If she seems to be descending into the realms of Sue-ishness, please warn me.

I'll update when I can, but it's probably going to be a little irregular while I get the direction I want this to go in sorted out.

Lastly, any form of review is loved and treasured, but concrit is particularly appreciated. Thanks.

Disclaimer: The version of King Arthur I'm using does not belong to me and I'm making no money out of this. This is fan-work only.