It had been years since he last saw Enid and he wasn't sure exactly why it bothered him so much. She'd haunted their steps before, he knew about that; he was sure that there were times she's followed them and he was none the wiser – through the years she'd become so much alike a ghost it was unnerving.

In any case, it bothered him that she had managed to evade his notice for five years; whether through skill or having been killed in one of the numerous skirmishes they'd had with the Woards since the news of Rome's withdrawal started to spread – he rather hoped it was the former, whatever that said about him.

It was the final year of their service and he was eager for the freedom it would afford and equally nervous in the knowledge that he didn't know what he would do once their term was up. He didn't know whether he should go back to Sarmatia despite the fact that there was little he remembered of it and there was likely nothing for him to return to, or stay in the wretched country he'd bled for since his arrival almost 15 years ago. It was a daunting decision and as he listened to the last remaining knights prattle on and dream of returning home and freedom, his mood had been steadily blackening.

It rather didn't help that Enid kept resurfacing in his mind, almost taunting him with his indecision and strange longing he felt for her company. So Arthur bringing them a mission was a welcome distraction; they'd heard of the raiders on the coast before – one village burnt to the ground, other pleading for protection.

They rode out in the early morning to reach the village their last messenger came from, hoping to catch whomever was responsible. He was not surprised to find that they were late – by maybe an hour at the most, but nonetheless.

The village was in shambles. Dead bodies littered the ground and the houses were all ablaze to the point that it was simply foolhardy to even try dosing them.

The knights spread out, half-heartedly looking for survivors but knowing they won't find any. They didn't. The village was raided, anything of value taken, anything else destroyed. The raid itself was strange – there must not have been much loot to take and too much effort to extend for such an excursion. So what were they after?

They headed back empty handed. Galahad had been sent south, Tristan north as far as he dared go. Arthur had been strict in how long he was allowed to be away and if he wasn't back in three days then they would ride out after him.

He took off readily, allowing his trusty warhorse to take off faster than when he rode with others. His falcon had been circling overhead, watching out for him – Enid was right, she did make a loyal companion…

Damn it.

Tristan growled curses, as he tried to shake her from his mind and concentrate on the road and the surrounding woods, wary of the woads whose territory he had entered. I may have almost befriended one, but that would not stop them from shooting me full of arrows.

He'd been riding the entire day before cautiously approaching a small cluster of trees that in theory should have been a good resting place. He almost snorted at that thought. It was also ideal for an ambush. Resigned, he dismounted, and led his warhorse into the small clearing, eyeing the forest – was that an arm he'd just seen?

Damn it all.

He'd just barely managed to throw himself sideways, avoiding being instantly killed and instead took the arrow in the shoulder – not the best, but that left him still breathing and mobile enough to fight back. Another twang warned him of an arrow and he again evaded it, only just.

Suddenly there was a horn sounding in the distance, a familiar horn – it was the same that had called the retreat of woads numerous times before. He saw a man step into the clearing with a drawn bow, ready to finish him before they went – only to be distracted by the horn again.

There was a terse shout and the man bared his teeth before reluctantly retreating, followed by two others. They disappeared into the forest, leaving Tristan alone. For the most part.

"What are you doing north of the wall, you foolish man!" Enid stalked towards him, having materialised at the edge of the clearing without him noticing. Instead of answering her, he inspected the arrow in his shoulder, grimly realising that he wouldn't be doing much of anything, including riding for a while.

Angry grumbling suddenly relocated from the edge of the clearing to right beside him and he glanced up to see Enid expecting the arrow with critical eye. She'd changed in the five years he didn't see her; although taller than the first time they've met, she still came up to barely his shoulder; she had gained a woman's figure in her absence; her hair had tipped further into reddish brown category, tied into a long braid down her back. She was paler, but maybe it was the effect of the light blue paint and darker designs. She'd had a few added, he distantly noted, studying her dark eyes. Hazel. She looked up at him and sighed tiredly.

"Sit," she ordered, gesturing to the flattish stone in the middle of the clearing. "Gods only know what would have become of you had I not been tracking Saxons along the coast."

"Saxons?" Tristan alerted instantly at the information.

Enid nodded absently, bringing a small jar out of her pack and fetching his warhorse that had retreated to the trees. After digging around in his saddlebags, she found some bandages Dagonet had stashed there and came back to his perch.

"We've sighted them coming to the coast," she told him, worrying her lip and staring at the arrow. "They come to land, burn and kill, take what they like and leave on ships again."

Without warning, she grabbed the arrow and yanked it out, bracing his shoulders to keep him from moving away. He let out a few curses through clenched teeth and gave the woman a sharp glare; she just chuckled, unlacing his hauberk and pulling it off him to get to the wound. Once she managed to get his tunic out of the way, she took to cleaning the wound and stitching it quickly. Next was the peculiar ointment she had in the jar and bandages, before his tunic was righted carefully and she was back to his horse, retrieving blankets.

Feeling useless, he made to stand and take care of his mount, only to be stopped with Enid's unimpressed stare that rivalled Vanora's. It kept him firmly in place until she tethered his horse to a tree to graze comfortably and relieved it of the saddle, laying out his blanket and cloak on the ground and making sure he laid down on them.

"Stay," she ordered again, with almost as much authority as Arthur, hurrying to the woods once she was sure he would stay put. He sighed heavily, equally annoyed and bewildered, but relaxed. So she was alive, and from what he could see, she was well. She was still slender enough to worry about a gust of wind knocking her over but she was a long shot from the childlike sorry excuse of a girl he'd seen last time. He was right about her growing more beautiful, too.

His thoughts were interrupted by the woman herself returning with an armful of wood and setting up a fire with practiced ease, coaxing it to life once the sparks caught. With another hard look in his direction, she disappeared back into the treeline, leaving him resting by the fire with nothing but his thoughts for company.

Well, that and Isolde.

His falcon had screeched her way into the clearing and if she could talk, he was sure she'd be berating him for his idiocy. He grabbed his glove and extended his hand, inviting her to come and she instantly complied, settling on her perch.

"Where have you been, eh?" he asked quietly, scratching the feathers beneath her head. She stretched her neck, demanding more attention, and let out a small cackle, snapping her beak. He smiled slightly at the affectionate bird and settled in to wait for Enid to return from wherever she'd disappeared to.

It was another hour before the woad reappeared, bringing two rabbits which she promptly skinned and cut. Isolde was instantly distracted by the obvious presence of food and left Tristant's hand to try and get Enid to feed her. The woman glanced at the approaching bird with an amused smile and offered her some meat, feeding her a few more pieces as she carved the rabbits for cooking.

Tristan watched Enid intently as she skewered the meat with some sticks and settled by the fire to roast the food. She stayed silent, resolutely ignoring the man watching her closely and concentrating on the food she was trying to prepare. He had questions, but was loath to disturb the silence they were both so comfortable in; it had been a while since the last time he was relatively content and that had almost certainly to do with the woman that was poking at the meat experimentally.

He must have been completely lost in thought, contemplating her and life, because Enid's sudden movements rather startled him. She came over to him, handing him his share of food and packing the rest for later. He went to talk, but she simply shook her head.

"We are both weary and you are wounded. Eat. Then we both rest. We will speak tomorrow – you have to let the wound at least start healing before you ride back, so we will have a day before I am also due to leave," with that Enid stared him down until he started eating, going back to her food with an air of immense satisfaction about her. He chuckled. It was good to have her back.