Chapter 2-The way to win...sort of.

They left me there to die. I assume they believed an injured child of seven would have no way to fend for herself and so would die of hunger or thirst or infection. But Lady Luck was on my side that day. I didn't die. I dragged my aching body to a stream near my village and simply laid in the water, not having the strength for anything else. I let the stream rinse my wounds and occasionally I would turn my head to the side and take a mouthful of the cool water. I have no idea how long I laid there with my eyes closed, reliving all that had happened. Eventually I forced myself to my feet and staggered back to the village. I found food in one of the houses that had not completely burnt down. I ate. I slept. And when I woke it was to the murmer of voices. A hunting party from another tribe had seen the smoke from my village's destruction and came to investigate. They built a makeshift stretcher and carried me back with them. A woman nursed me back to health. From time to time she would ask me questions; what was my name, what happened to my village, ect. But I would just look at her, and the pain in my eyes would send her away.

XOXOXOXOXO

Story opened her eyes to the early morning light. She was in her room, in her bed, wrapped in one of her blankets. She pushed the blanket down and sat up, twisting her head side to side, stretching the muscles. Looking over her shoulder at the lump on the other side of the bed that was Gawain, she grinned and stretched out her arm. Placing her hand just in the middle of his back, she shoved...hard. And he hit the ground...hard. "Get up." She snickered as he groaned.

Standing, she walked over to the pile of clothes on the floor and began pulling her pants on. "Why? Why do you do that to me?" She snorted a laugh, "Because it's so much fun to hear you groan like that." Gawain stood up and walked over to her. Grabbing her wrist as she was in the middle of tying the string on her pants, he pulled her into his chest. He had her pinned against him with both her arms behind her back and he growled playfully in her ear, "You know there are much funner ways to make me groan."

Story smiled and twisted lithely out of his grasp. He made to grab her again and she simply swatted his hand away. "Do you want some food? There's bread on the shelf, and dried meat if you'd like." She pulled on a shirt and began pouring herself a glass of mulled wine. Taking a bite of bread, Gawain just looked at her for a second. "Wine?" he said. "This early in the morning?" She just winked at him and finished the drink in one swallow. "I'm going to the arena. I'll see you later." And with that she walked out. Gawain just laughed and took another bite.

As she walked down the stairs to the dirt road that ran in front of her room she began whistling a little tune. She spotted Lancelot heading to the stables and shouted after him, "Lancelot! Sleep well?" He gave her his most roguish grin and replied, "Aye! And you?" She just smiled at him and nodded, continuing toward the training arena.

When she arrived, she grabbed her weapons from the shelf where she kept most of them, and placed them about herself in their various sheaths and holsters. When she was done she had no less than six daggers, a sword (similar to Tristram's, though shorter), a quiver and bow and a wicked-looking axe. She was by no means proficient with all of them, but she preferred to be prepared and so continued to train with all of them, just in case.

Her true weapons, though, were the daggers. They required more finesse in battle. They could be thrown or used in hand to hand combat. Daggers could be used to block a blow or to strike one, and to Story they just didn't seem as messy as the other weapons she carried. She loved the way the perfectly balanced knife felt in her hand, like an extension of her arm. After gathering all her things she went out into the arena to practice. She knew Galahad would be there with his bow, practicing since first light as every day.

"I see you're equipped for a full day," he said as he pulled the string of his bow and took aim at a target 50 yards away. Galahad was an excellent shot and Story took note of his stance, his relaxed shoulders, the way he breathed when he held a bow in his hand. Galahad felt about his bow the way Story felt about her daggers.

"We'll see, I guess. It sort of depends on whether you can keep up with me or not." Galahad breathed out and let fly his arrow. It struck the target dead center.

He turned and looked at her. "You mean us..." and he glanced over her shoulder at the knight standing there.

Without turning around, she sighed, "You can stop trying to be sneaky Tristram, I know you're there. I heard you walk in."

"No you didn't," he replied smuggly.

Story whirled towards him, drawing her short sword as she turned, and crashing it down against his, already drawn and waiting. He grunted with the impact of the two swords meeting, but he held her there. Both breathing a little heavily, she glared at him. How she hated that he could anticipate her every move so easily! Then, suddenly, a thought occured to her and she grinned internally. Still glaring, she twisted her sword and pushed away from him at the same time. He attacked and she barely had time to block before his next attack came at her. She gritted her teeth and waited for her next opportunity. They sparred with each other, first one attacking, then the other, but mostly Tristram. Then she saw him swing his sword in a overhanded attack and lifted her sword to meet his yet again.

As the swords met, crossing between them, Story used her left hand to grab both hilts and shoved them to the right, pushing both blades harmlessly away, and let go of her sword. She was already only inches away and she leaned forward, kissing Tristram hard on the lips. He stiffened in surprise for a moment and then dropped his sword and stepped into her, putting one hand on her neck to pull her closer.

Just then he felt something and stopped kissing her. Story pulled back, breathless and smiling. Her eyes shined with mirth as she stepped away from him. He just looked at her curiously as he raised his hands in the air. In her right hand, held against his low abdomen, was one of her beloved daggers, nudging him to step back. He did.

"Say it." Story commanded, grinning for all she was worth.

"You're a bastard. You know that, right?" he said.

She just smiled wider, "Yea. Isn't it great? Now say it." And she twisted the dagger a little, slicing through his shirt and a few layers of skin.

"You win, Story." The way he said her name made her want to purr.

Okay. Now PLEASE review! Let me know what you think! Good, bad, or ugly! I just want some feedback! I'm like tinkerbell! I need applause to live!