Chapter two has been completed in the new style.

This is as close to a Mary Sue as I've ever published. And this is probably as far as I'll go.

I don't own any of the characters except my own. Yadda, Yadda, so don't sue my penniless self!

Chapter 2 Refugee

I was unconscious only a short while. When I opened my eyes, Gawain and Arthur were wrapping cloth bandages around my knees to support them while they healed. I steeled myself to hide all signs of the pain that shot through my lower abdominal regions as my shaky fingers drew the fur wrap back around myself. I slowly sat up.

Gawain handed me a water bladder.

I only took a couple, tentative sips before returning it.

"Ready?" he asked.

I nodded, still unable to fully trust my voice to not betray my pain.

"Have you ridden a horse before?"

"Not properly."

All the men looked at me with curious expressions.

I exhaled and I clasped my fingers together to keep from tucking nonexistent loose stands of hair behind my ears again. "My mother and I were accused of witchcraft. When the Roman soldiers came to take us away from our home, they tied our hands behind our backs and put us, bellies down, over the fronts of their saddles."

Gawain nodded, as if this had confirmed something. "You'll ride with me, but we'll go as slow as we dare." He grinned warmly. "Hopefully this experience will be better than the last." Then he was moving towards the back of the wagon.

Before I could move to follow him, Arthur had gingerly scooped me into his arms.

"I can walk now." I tried to protest.

"But should you?"

"No, I suppose I should not." I sighed. "Only I had hoped to appear more resilient."

The Roman warrior chuckled at that.

Gawain disappeared through the flap, taking the crutches with him.

From the leader's arms I watched him tie down them across the back of a pack horse before leaping easily into the saddle of his own. Once settled. He looked up and reached for me.

Arthur gently passed me into the golden warrior's grasp without them stopping the wagon. I was settled sideways in front of Gawain and he was helping me to adjust my fur wrap when another of the Sarmation knights rode up.

"Arthur."

"Tristan."

"I found a narrow foot path, leading off of the main road. I followed it and found a small cottage. There was a Healer's Rune carved into the doorpost."

The leader looked to me for confirmation.

I nodded. "Yes, that is where I grew up."

The new knight was watching me through a curtain of light brown hair. The strange tattoos on his face made him look fierce, and his brown eyes glinted dangerously.

I leaned away from his scrutiny, harder against Gawain. If any of them noticed, they said nothing of it.

"We'll hurry." Gawain assured the others, then pressed a pair of leather straps into my hands. "Hold on to him?"

I realized that they were the reigns for the packhorse. I had no idea what he thought I would try to salvage from my old life, but I was determined that it would be very little.

He set the horse at a brisk walk and we soon out distanced the rag-tag group.

I relished the quiet stillness of my forest. This had been my side of the mountain for my whole life, but I knew I had to leave it behind. So I closed my eyes and tilted my face to the sky. I wished it all farewell.

I opened my eyes and all my senses stretched to collect as many treasured memories as possible. The trees, though bare of their leaves, spread their arms welcomingly, and the smell of rich, moist earth, twinged with frost was just as comforting as a hearth fire. I breathed deeply and hungrily of the free, fresh air. I knew the call of each bird and the creak of the wind through bare branches was like sweet music. In that moment I could have almost forgotten the pain that knifed through my body with every step the horse took.

"This blasted silence is enough to drive a man mad!"

I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Well, it certainly is no longer silent."

"I suppose you are used to this." He gestured generally to the trees.

I gripped the reigns more tightly. "Is there no silence south of the wall?"

"Not in the fort or nearby village. There's nearly always the sounds of people and animals coming and going. Then there's the wind. He howls around the corners and rattles the shutters at all hours, but especially at night when you are trying to sleep."

I tried to shrug. "I suppose you are used to it."

Gawain's hearty laugh had a pleasant sound to it. "I will have to stay on guard with you around, Bree. You are a clever one."

"I think that was a compliment…"

He laughed again. "That was how I intended it."

"Then I thank you."

As the silence settled over us again, I felt that there was more he wished to ask or say. I waited, twisting the reigns to keep my hands off of my hair.

He finally found the words. "You are the quietest girl I have ever met, even when you're in pain."

I twisted too quickly to face him in my surprise. "How-?" The pain made me gasp and proved his point.

"I can tell." I could feel his eyes on me as he spoke. "I live with men who think admitting pain of any kind is a weakness. I'm not the one who puts them back together after a battle, Dagonet is. I'm better at destroying things than I am at fixing them, but I can tell when someone's in pain. You hide it well, maybe even from Arthur, but Dag will see it. I see it, Bree."

"Then pray to God that I still have the herbs I need." I whispered.

Gawain's voice was barely recognizable when he spoke again. "I don't pray to things that are not there."

The cold edge to his words cut at my heart. "I am very sorry you think that. I'll pray that something changes your mind."

I do not know if he would have continued the discussion. He raised his hand and pointed to a narrow path that turned away from the main road. "There?"

I nodded. "Yes."

We turned onto the trail and were swallowed up by the forest.

"Why did you become a healer?"

I composed my thoughts for a moment before answering him. "I suppose at first because my mother was one. Then I learned that with my knowledge I could help people be whole and healthy; that I could ease people's pain. After that, it became all I wanted to do."

"What about your father?" Gawain asked. "I've heard you speak of your mother and brother, but never your father."

My stomach knotted. "Dead. Before I was born."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not." The knot twisted.

Gawain flinched. Perhaps he was surprised by the anger in my voice.

I felt that I should better explain. I drew a deep breath. "He was a murderer. My brother killed him to rescue Mamma and to avenge his father."

"How old was your brother?"

"Twelve."

"That is hard. I was not much older myself when I fought in my first battle, though it was far less personal." He hesitated a moment. "You do not have to tell me, but I would like to know what happened."

A wisp of hair actually had escaped this time. I sighed and tucked it back behind my ear. "The last time the Saxons tried to invade, they murdered nearly everyone in a small fishing village. A few people escaped, including my brother, but his father was murdered while trying to protect Mamma. The Saxon leader recognized her value as both an attractive woman and a healer, so he claimed her as spoils of war. Only my brother dared to return to rescue her. He succeeded and once she was safe, went back to help drive out the invading army. When the Saxons were gone, he and Mamma came here to start over, but Abelard had the wanderlust. He became a woodsman and his territory is from here, East, West, and North as far as the sea. He resented me for a while, until he was old enough to see that I was what had kept Mamma sane after what those Saxon dogs did to her."

Gawain was quiet for several minutes. He sounded hesitant when he did finally speak again. "How many people know of your linage?"

"Mamma, Abelard, me, and now you. Unless someone needs help, forest healers are looked down on and scorned as it is, so how much more would I have had to endure if people knew that I was half barbarian? So Mamma never corrected anyone when they assumed my father was her dead husband."

The trees suddenly thinned into a small clearing. Home. The cottage was as it always had been, nestled into the back of the clearing with a lean too shed on one side and a barn on the other. A row of narrow gardens ran around the edge of the forest, leaving most of the space for the yard.

But something felt off. I looked around again. The gardens had been weeded and covered with leaves, moss and twigs the way Mamma and I always did for the winter, but we had been taken during harvest time. The shutters on all the buildings had been closed and fastened down, but Mamma and I had been taken mid day.

"What is it?" Gawain asked, having caught the look of confusion on my face.

"We were taken in late summer. There's no sign of the mess the soldiers left and everything's been winterized. It looks like Mamma and I never left."

Gawain was on the ground in seconds, his sword ringing as he drew it from its sheath. "Stay there. If anything happens, I want you to ride away, as fast as you can get the horses to go."

I nodded and gripped the reigns tighter.

He checked the barn, the shed, and the cottage. He found nothing. "Someone must have cleaned up for you. No animals in the barn, though. No one has been her for a while."

I managed to relax. "Abelard. He must have come home and found us missing."

He sheathed his sword and moved to lift me from the horse. He was about to carry me to the cottage when I stopped him.

"Please let me walk."

He looked me over, then met my eyes, as if silently asking me if I was sure that I was strong enough.

"I need to do this, Gawain. I'm saying good-bye to everything; Everything I've always known. Please?"

A slow blink of his bright blue eyes was his only sign of consent before he carefully set me on my feet. He made sure I was steadying herself against the horse's neck, then moved to the pack horse and retrieved the crutches. He gently steadied me until I found my balance and began to hobble toward the cottage. I paused a few seconds to brush the tips of my fingers over the Healer's Rune that was carved into the doorpost before entering.

"Will there be anything I can do to help you?" he asked as he followed me inside.

"There," I pointed to a curtained alcove on the back wall. "The trunk there has my winter clothes and…" I hesitated a moment, then finally decided to trust him completely. "A rosewood box with Saxon carvings in it."

"Stolen from your father." A statement, not a question, as if he already knew.

"Yes."

He nodded. "I will get it. And Bree?"

I looked up to meet his gaze.

"Your secret is safe with me. Unless you give me leave, I will never tell another soul."

I vaguely wondered if Gawain watched the burden lift from my shoulders at his promise. "Thank you," I whispered, as I fought back tears.

He flashed me a little smile before turning to the alcove.

I freed one hand to brush away the tears and turned immediately to my left. My leather gathering bag and cloak hung in their proper place alongside Mamma's. I managed to don my cloak, then slung both bags across my chest so that one hung at each hip. The weight felt comfortable and familiar, but I was tiring already and knew I would have to hurry.

Leaning heavily on the crutches, I hobbled to the storage wall. Floor to ceiling shelves held jars and leather pouches, each one marked in some way that only Mamma and I would understand. I started searching through the stores, sniffing, and sometimes even tasting each before either returning it to the shelf or placing it in one of the gatherings bags at my sides. I wrapped the jars in a rags first to keep them from breaking.

Using the crutches, I hopped sideways to the table to wrap and place the small scales and weights in the bag on my left hip, and the stone mortar and pestle in the one on my right.

"I used the quilt on the bed to wrap up your box." I was almost to the fireplace when Gawain spoke.

"Thank you." I made it to my destination and from a high shelf that I could barely reach, grabbed a leather envelope of sewing tools and a reed flute. I added them to the bags on my hips. I glanced around my childhood home. I felt empty.

"Is there anything else you need?"

I shook my head. "No. Time is against us and if I don't leave now, I never will."

He nodded his understanding then picked up the satchel that he had put my things from the alcove into.

I hobbled after him to the horses.

He lifted me into the saddle before going to the pack horse.

One large satchel I could carry myself, if I was well, and the two leather gathering bags were all I had left of Mamma and my old life.

When he finished, he also tied the crutches across the top of the bundle before going back and making sure the cottage door was closed securely.

"Why did you do that? The Saxons will burn it when they find it, no matter how you leave it."

He looked into my eyes as he answered. "So no innocents or animals will take refuge here and die in the fire. It is no guarantee, but it is the best I can do to ease my conscience."

A feeling shot through me. Not pain. A chill ran down my spine, while my face felt flushed, and I swallowed hard, even though my mouth felt dry. I think I nodded my understanding and agreement. I didn't flinch when he settled behind me and reached around me to take the reigns. Even the frightened, abused part of me knew he would not hurt me. I tried to reason with my own line of thought. But surely, surely this man has a woman waiting for him at the wall.

As we neared the main road we could hear the rumble of wagon wheels and as we cleared the trees, the last stragglers from our rag-tag group were rounding a bend ahead of us.

"Refugees." I had not meant to say it out loud.

"What was that?" Gawain asked.

"Refugees." I repeated, louder. "I am one of them now. None of us any better than poor refugees and beggars."

He made a sound in his throat as if he wanted to argue, but he held his tongue and urged the horses into a trot.