Mordred kept his hood low over his face as he rode along the next day. There were over a hundred people around him but despite this he still found it difficult to blend in.
He had seen Kay searching for him around midday but Mordred hadnt. The people had wanted to fight anyway; they had just needed a leader.
Mordred lay back on the grass and he wondered what Morgan was doing now.
He hadnt be in Camelot.
Mordred sighed.
He hoped she would forgive him, especially now that he was no longer sure that fighting was the right thing to do.
He felt younger than he had in a long time and it scared him. He wanted to be back in Camelot with his family where he knew without a doubt that they were all safe.
He did not want to be in some unknown forest, just half a days wrist felt strange without its usual leather band on and he held it tightly in one hand. He felt his pulse racing and made a conscious effort to calm down.
Mordred closed his eyes against the firelight and tried to block out the low hum of voices as the fighters settled down for the night.
Mordred rolled over; his cloak draped over him, and tried to keep his mind on other things so that his nervousness would fade and he could go to sleep.
The night was cold and dark, and brought little in the way of rest.