Hello people. My computer has been completely wack, so I had to write this chapter entirely by hand first. That did not make me happy. Not to mention, I am almost out of Hershey's chocolate. I need my fix! Agh! Thanks to everyone that reviewed! Reviews are nearly as good as chocolate! If anyone has a suggestion for a title change, I'm all ears. This title sucks. Thanks again!

Rebekah slept fitfully that night. She had so many questions, but no answers. Why were these knights helping them? Why had they bee there at all? So, the Saxons had finally come. How much damage had they done thus far? What were her people doing to stop them? Before she had been taken captive, their numbers had been dwindling. The situation could hardly be better now. What were they going to do?

Then, there was the all-important question. Did Arthur and his knights know who they were? Certainly, he knew they were Woads, but did he know that Guinevere was Merlin's daughter? That Sera was a direct descendant of the warrior chiefs of old? Did he know that Rebekah herself was a highly regarded leader of her people? She hoped not. For all the blood of Briton that flowed in his veins, he held his Roman blood in higher esteem. He could turn them over to the Romans. The Romans would use them to force the Woads to put down their weapons. Rebekah could not allow this. She would take her own life first. In the morning, she, Guinevere, and Sera had much to discuss.

Her mind weary, Rebekah's thoughts turned to Tristan, her reluctant rescuer. What had she seen in his eyes? Distrust, wariness, certainly. But there was also pity in his gaze, a bitterness. Why? He had killed hundreds of her kind over the years. What made her any different from the honorable dead? In her current state, she wasn't much to look at. Rebekah's face, once healthy and glowing, was now filthy and gaunt. Her eyes had dark circles under them from sleepless nights. She didn't even want to think about her hair, tangled and grimy. Rebekah had never considered herself vain, but she would feel better after a bath. Tomorrow, she would ask Sera about her hands. Sera was a skilled healer, and would know what to do. After such an exhausting day, and a restless night, sleep finally claimed her.

Guinevere woke with a start. She saw a piece of stretched cloth overhead. 'That's odd, what is that doing in my cell?' she thought. Then she remembered. Knights. Blinding sunlight. Bird song. A face was swimming before her eyes. They were safe now. She took a deep breath, steadying herself, and sat up. She was in a wagon. Rebekah was on her left, and Sera was on her right. Rebekah was mumbling in her sleep. Something about braids, Saxons, and hands. It all seemed like gibberish to Guinevere, and, not for the first time, she worried about her friend.

They never spoke of it, but they both had duties resting heavily upon their shoulders. It made them who they were, but it was not without its troubles. She saw Rebekah struggling with herself when she thought no one was near. She saw the conflict in her eyes when she did what was best for her people and sacrificed herself. Everyone had a breaking point, and Guinevere was afraid Rebekah had reached hers. This journey would be difficult for all of them, if this was the case. Rebekah was always the one with the plans. She saw paths that others could never find. She could find a way out of any situation when she was focused. She wasn't focused now. She was far too worried to be focused. Guinevere prayed to every god she knew to help Rebekah, for all their sakes.

Rebekah woke up, but kept her eyes closed. Someone was watching her, she could feel it. Her eyes snapped open, and she was relieved to find Guinevere looking down at her. Rebekah smiled.

"I wondered when you would wake up. We can't have you lazing in bed all day." Teased Guinevere.

"Good morning to you too." Said Rebekah, trying to sound grumpy, but failing miserably in the attempt. "It's so good to see you!"

Rebekah sat up, and hugged Guinevere tightly. She was ashamed to find tears in her eyes. Really, it was like some terrible epidemic! At this rate she would be crying over a puppy or a sunset, or some other such nonsense. But it was good to see her, to talk to her. They had tried communicating between their cells, but they were far too tired then. They hadn't really spoken for four long months. It had been far too long.

Rebekah released Guinevere, and both women turned their gaze to Sera. Sera's face was nearly hidden by hair that was so dark, it was nearly black. They could still see the slashes that lay beneath it, however, and they felt the same bitterness return. It might be over, but that did not change the fact that it had happened. Guinevere lightly brushed the hair out of Sera's face, and she stirred. She looked disoriented for a moment and sat up.

All three of them wore identical un-died shifts in various stages of disintegration. They were all filthy, all hungry, but they were free. Or, as free as a Woad could be in a caravan of the Roman Empire.

"What, no breakfast?" asked Sera, breaking up their gloomy thoughts.

"I'm sorry, my lady, there has been a dreadful accident in the kitchens. Something about a large rat in the soup. This is the part where you shriek with fear." Replied Rebekah.

Things were back to normal. Well, their friendship was back to normal. Almost. Rebekah could not quite dismiss her guilt for their condition however.

"This is all my fault. Someday, perhaps you will find it in your hearts to forgive me. I should never have behaved as I did." Rebekah said, awkwardly. She had never been good at apologizing. It always came off sounding insincere. Her friends looked surprised.

"This isn't your fault, Rebekah." Guinevere stated. "If you hadn't done anything, we would have."

"Guinevere's right. Everything happens for a reason. You would not be the person that we know and love, if you had not reacted to the situation the way you did." Sera said.

"Look at us! What possible reason could there be for this?" Rebekah protested. "I'm sorry, I'm in a foul mood. We must talk, somewhere we can't be overheard. Something isn't right. We'll talk about what's meant to be later."

The other two nodded. They understood. They moved to the opening of the wagon. Sera was remembering her last attempt at getting fresh air.

"Perhaps we should try this slowly. Our bodies aren't used to all this movement." She suggested.

They moved together, supporting one another. Their legs screamed in protest, but held. They ventured into the woods. Rebekah paused. Someone was out there. She knew it. The air wasn't right. She spun around, and came face to face with Merlin.

Their gazes locked, and Rebekah felt distinctly uncomfortable. She doubted she would ever get used to that all knowing presence. Merlin's gaze shifted to his daughter, and they embraced. Merlin didn't like to admit, even to himself, that he had given up all hope of ever seeing his daughter again. He had tried to keep her out of danger, but it had found her all the same. Now he had to ask her to risk herself again. Not for himself, but for the future of all Briton.