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Realtfarraige- It did happen rather fast, but hen, so did the woads and the knights.

Mustang Gal- Of course you are! Need you ask?

Nianko- That's all right, because you updated! Thanks!

Camreyn- Intoxicating indeed! You will have to wait and see what horrors I have in store for all of my wonderful and happy characters. Muh, hah, hah!

Veronica- Okay. Thanks!

MonDieu666- I guess we're both dorks. Dorks rule! Thanks! You updated, yey!

Blood. Everywhere. Its coppery taste flowed through her mouth, trickling down her chin. She could smell the death in the air. They were all dead. All of them. She was dying. There would be no more sunsets, no more kisses, no more smiles. The sun was blinding her, tears streaming down her bloody and bruised face. Life wasn't supposed to be like this.

They had struck early, when the tribe was gathering for their communal breakfast. No one was expecting the attack. Few had weapons. She certainly hadn't. They had sliced people to ribbons, children clutching their mothers' hands. Husbands, protecting their wives. Elders, who could barely hobble. These were not soldiers. All dead now, but for her. She would be joining them soon.

She had begged, but they had not listened. She had scratched, kicked, and clawed at them, but they just hit her. They had ripped up her skirt, touching her, pounding into her, laughing at her shrieks. Then, they had slashed at her. The blood flowed from everywhere, between her legs, her nose, her chest.

The light was getting stronger now, she cried harder. She couldn't see! She couldn't see! It was getting harder to breathe, her frantic gasps punctuating the silence. She could hear voices all around her, people yelling in her head. She begged them to stop; they were giving her a headache. Why wouldn't they leave her be?

Her body stilled. She could no longer see, no longer breathe. Her life was gone, taken by men with mad eyes, evil intent. And no one would ever know.

Habren had been doing a lot of thinking. She loved Papay, yes, but what would the future hold? While he had not admitted who he was, if Habren's suspicions were correct, there was no room for a wife. Habren didn't know why he had stayed so long, but he couldn't afford to stay here forever. He could be discovered, his men could rebel. It was far too risky. She wouldn't let him stay and be caught. It would be her fault, and she couldn't stand it. Lancelot was beginning to get restless, and the other knights wanted to see their families. They would be leaving soon. Habren would go with them. Papay didn't need to know. It was best for all involved if he was ignorant of that little detail.

Rebekah was getting bored. It wasn't that she didn't like Lancelot's village, it was simply that Tristan was away on patrol so often, and Sera and Aine were wrapped up in their own little worlds. It wasn't that she blamed them, but she quickly tired of herself all by her lonesome. She wished they would hurry up and go to the next village.

Though he made no sound, Rebekah knew he was there. Not even bothering to turn around, she asked,

"Any trouble?"

"No."

He came up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist, pushing her hair to the side, kissing her neck. It was good to be back. Patrol had been exceedingly dull, and next time he was definitely dragging Rebekah along with him. The want, the need, of another human was a new emotion for Tristan, and he disliked being separated from this strange addiction.

His breath was warm on her neck, and she grinned. They had an hour or two before they would be missed.

She was married. Radha didn't feel any different than before. She still loved Gawain, he still loved her. They had a deep bond before, marriage had not changed it. Now, as she tugged at his braids, she wondered how his family would react. More specifically, the deranged uncle he had mentioned earlier. She grazed her palm over her flat belly, and made a mental note to keep him away. No need to be taking chances.

Gawain was devising ways in which to dispose of his uncle. He couldn't quite figure out were to stash the body. Radha tensed up whenever he was mentioned, and Gawain had no intention of letting her be berated for her sex, especially not when she was carrying his child. She would have his full protection. He could only hope his mother didn't tell Radha about that one time, at that one place, when that thing happened...it would be far too embarrassing. He was not usually a self-conscious man, and he quickly hid his discomfort. She really didn't need to know.

Galahad and Deirdre had spent a lot of time in bed. (Or cot, whichever phrase suits the situation best...) Deirdre was beginning to behave as she usually did, not allowing the women of the tribe to bother her. They didn't matter to Galahad, and they certainly didn't matter to her. Galahad couldn't be happier to have the old Deirdre back. He had missed her. They would be leaving for his village soon.

Sera was asleep, slicked with sweat. Lancelot grinned down at her, glad that marriage had not dulled his undeniable skill. He wanted to be alone for a bit, get his thoughts in order. He was trying to find a way to tell his mother about his plans for departure, but couldn't think of a way that didn't involve him being slapped upside the head. He headed for the hill overlooking the village. It had always been a calming place in his childhood, and he could only hope that it still provided the same serenity.

Habren was being crushed into the grass, her breath coming in gasps whenever she could get them. Papay's mouth was hot and seductive against hers, sending shockwaves through her body. Fire was spreading from her belly, leaving nothing untouched. She had laced her fingers through his hair again, pleasing them both.

He still hadn't figured out her scent, and that drove him on, his mind whirling. He knew the scent, he just couldn't place it, it was rather maddening. They saw each other whenever Habren could slip away. Contrary to his men's belief, they had not yet made love, nor did they spend all of their time kissing. His thirst for her could never be quenched. Her conversation, not just her body.

When Lancelot reached the crest of the hill, he began to hear odd noises. Gasps and moans that sounded very human. He was about to make his hasty departure, when he caught sight of the couple. Was that his sister? And who was that on top of his sister?

Yes, this was certainly awkward. His first reaction was to pull him off her, and beat him to a bloody pulp, whoever he was. And, who was he? Men were scarce, he must be married. Damn. Can't tell mother that. Lancelot finally came to the conclusion that nothing good could come of him beating up the nameless fellow currently trying to suck his sister's tongue out of her mouth. She wouldn't thank him. She appeared to be enjoying herself immensely. The man's wife would wonder if he came hobbling home, and Habren could be shunned. He quietly made his way back to his tent, Sera still sleeping soundly, a grin on her face. He would take her with him when they left. It was the only solution. She could find her own man, and this fellow would forget all about her.

Habren was making her way home, when her brother stopped her. He pulled her aside.

"Would you like to come with us when we leave?" he asked, quietly. He was expecting a quick refusal.

"Yes." She said simply, giving him a bit of a shock. This wasn't supposed to be so easy. He had rehearsed this conversation several times in his head, and she had never been convinced without threats and blackmail.

"We leave in the morning." He said shortly, and turned to go speak with his mother. He touched a hand to his head, hoping he would leave her tent unscathed.

His mother took this new surprisingly easily as well. What was with these people? They were supposed to argue with him! It was rather unnerving!

Aine and Sebbi were on patrol. There wasn't really a need. The bandits appeared to have gotten bored of the life, and hadn't stuck a village in months. There was never any disturbance. All that could be done was to examine ones nails and talk.

For the first time, Sebbi spoke openly of his homeland. He had been vague before, not wanting to talk about his late wife. Now, he told Aine about Cynwise. She listened quietly, and pulled him into his arms for comfort once he had finished. That had not been easy for him. Who knew that such an apparently happy person carried all of that around with him? She would help him bear the load.

Habren was alone in the tent. She would go to him tonight. It would be the last time that they would be together. She would make it count. She didn't want to leave, but knew that she must. Sometimes, life was simply not fair.

As night fell, Lancelot saw his sister slip out of her tent, heading towards the hill. No one followed her. What was going on? It was really none of his business. They would be leaving tomorrow, and that would be the end of it. He could let her have one last night with whoever this was. Sera jumped on his back, surprising him. He carried her back to their tent, laughing. So, she wanted to play, did she?

Habren was on the other side of the hill, looking about. Where was he? He always seemed to appear by magic whenever she came. And, sure enough, she caught that seductive scent. Turning around, she saw him. Her breath caught in her throat, as he overwhelmed her senses.

Papay strode towards her. She always looked beautiful by moonlight. They never seemed to have enough time together. He pulled her to him, and kissed her. She was more passionate than usual, almost aggressive. She brought his hands to the back of her dress, giving him permission to remove it. He stared down at her, wondering what had caused this abrupt decision. Not that he was complaining. He wanted her. She apparently wanted him. The world was a happy place again. He complied, and gently settled her on the cool grass, and her hands strayed to his tunic. It was quickly disposed of, and skin met skin for the first time. Control was becoming difficult for Papay, but he forced himself to go slowly. Habren wouldn't have had much experience in this area. He kept his hands slow, kisses trailing over her body.

They held each other for a long time afterwards. Habren's head was thrown back, a smile on her face. It was the first time she had ever smiled in his presence, and Papay reveled in it. It was more beautiful than he had ever imagined. He was glad that he had given her something to smile about.

It was at times like this that it was very difficult for Habren to imagine leaving him tomorrow morning. She knew it was for the best, but this had felt so good! Why couldn't they just stay here forever?

Her parents would be looking for her soon. She had to go. She rolled Papay off her, letting his hands explore her body a bit more before reaching for her dress. She would give him as much as she could before she left. When she went to stand up, he protested, dragging her back down on top of him. Habren sighed as he nibbled at her neck. This was not making her departure any easier.

"Don't go. Not yet." He whispered in her ear. Oh, how much she wanted to obey!

She kissed him, one last time. He would move on. He would forget. He would find someone else. A tear rolled down her cheek, landing softly in his dark hair. She had to go now, before she lost her nerve.

"I love you." She said, quietly. She rolled off him, and ran down the hill, back to her tent. She would never see him again.

Papay stared at the bloodstained grass. Something was wrong. He would bet his life on it.

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