If you have made it here, hopefully it is because you have enjoyed my writing. If that is the case, please take a few moments to go back and click the review button at the bottom of the story's page - not only on my stories, but other stories you come across as well. You will be doing every writer a huge favour by offering words of encouragement, simply letting them know you "stopped off for a read" or offering solid, constructive criticism. Note that I say "constructive criticism"...it takes a lot of guts to write something and post it for all to read - if you must criticize, be gentle and offer solid examples.

As a writer, please be respectful of the characters your encounter as well as courteous to your fellow writers. While I would never claim to have invented the characters of legends, I have worked hard at giving them lives and backgrounds, some much different than portrayals elsewhere. That being said, please keep your hands off them. Many of them do bite and are not up-to-date on their shots.

"It moved...I'm telling you, it moved."

"It did not, Galahad." Dagonet sighed openly but quietly. This argument had become old after the first year of their stationing.

Bors stepped forward and cautiously rapped his knuckles on the stone base of the statue. Breathing a sigh of relief at the solidness, he turned and smacked at Galahad. "Stone, ya' idiot. Stone don't move - 'less o'course it's named Tristan."

All 6 Knights laughed uneasily. This...figure...had sat on well muscled haunches in the back of their meeting room since they could recall. According to Arthur, it had been brought to the Wall shortly after its completion. A gift straight from Rome; from times past when Rome had taken over Aegypt and plundered its sacred sites. It was a watcher, Arthur had explained. It's duty was to watch, to listen and to guard those things within its domain.

"We ought to be going." Dagonet, always the voice of reason, of calm. "It was a trick of light, a play of shadow, Galahad." He nodded toward the youth, catching Tristan's eye and agreement.

"I'm telling you, it was not. It moved. It winked at me." The insistence of the younger was tangible.

"Galahad..." Lancelot's voice carried a warning.

Gawain reached out and pushed Lancelot toward the door, nodding at the others to follow suit. "It's time to go." When he got to Galahad, he paused, holding the boy back a bit as the others left, cajoling each other down the hallway.

Galahad turned to Gawain. "You believe me, don't you?" His voice was quiet. "It did look at me. It did wink at me." He looked at his brother pleadingly.

Gawain ran a hand through tangled locks. "I know this...figure...is something more than Arthur thinks, than anyone thinks..." He backed away slowly, taking Galahad with. "It knows things and secrets and...to be honest, Galahad, I think you are right and I also think that we need to be going from here..."

As the large Knight exited the room, dragging the smaller behind, the figure in question turned its head and smiled a small, wicked, gleaming smile. Winking at the two retreating figures, it stood and stretched its wings, before settling back onto its perch. Oh, the large one was right...the secrets it knew and the stories it could tell...