Keep the reviews coming people! I love you all! Virtual chocolate for everyone!
Mustang Gal- I feel so loved! Thanks!
MonDieu666- Butterflies-ooh! I think she has more of a man than a boy...
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ChiaraStorm- You updated! I jumped for joy. That is quite a picture; you might want to block the imagination there.
A.K. Anomynous- That's okay, I understand. I like Habren/Papay too.
Artemis de Luna- Though you probably won't see this: Yey! A new reviewer! I'm so Happy!
Camreyn- You will have to wait and see...hint: I never write future tenses, and when I write flashbacks, they are in italics...I often dream about Lancelot's skills... yum...Everyone wants to play with Lancelot.
BillieLiv- Thanks! Update "the apprentice" You'll be my extra special friend forever!
Nianko- If you're writing something great, I'll totally forgive you for not updating for a while. Thanks!
Habren was riding away from her home. She had insisted that they leave early, before the rest of the tribe was up. The others were confused, but agreed. Habren didn't want to chance Papay seeing her. He would not be pleased.
She remembered how it felt, his hands roaming, his body pressed into hers, his lips ravaging her throat. She wanted to turn back, but knew that she couldn't. There was no future.
Lancelot sensed her mood, and left her alone. She needed some time to settle her thoughts.
They rode for a week, setting up tents at night, sharing meals. Habren sat removed from the rest of the group. There were people all around her, but she had never felt so alone. The rest of the party had someone to cuddle with, and Habren gathered a blanket closer around her, wishing very much that it would morph into a particular human with black hair and piercing grey eyes. This, however, did not occur. She could never get warm enough. Sometimes, she thought she caught that scent, but then it was gone, and she knew she had imagined it.
Lancelot worried about his sister. This was for her own good, she would thank him later. Now, however, she looked ill, withdrawn. The others noticed her behavior, but left her alone. It was really none of their business. If Lancelot wasn't doing anything, there was a reason for it.
Papay rolled over on his cot, waking up from a very good dream. The world was beautiful, was it not? Yes, life was good. He would go see Habren when she came to the hill for weapons practice. It was early yet, but he could wait. Perhaps she hadn't been able to sleep either.
When he reached the top of the hill, he beheld a scene that sent a chill to his very heart. Habren's retreating back. She was leaving. Why? Had he done something wrong? Had she figured out who he was? Had she not liked his hands on her any longer?
Papay came to a decision. He would have an explanation.
He ran back to camp, rousing his men. They grumbled at him, in a manner that suggested that they did not appreciate the early wakeup call. They stopped when they saw the expression on their leader's face.
"Habren has decided to leave, and not tell me where she is going. I am going to follow her. You have no obligation to come." He said, shortly.
"Do you really think we'd allow you to go out in public without a keeper?" asked Afsati, incredulously. Did he really expect them to desert him? They did not become bandits for the gold. They were friends, first and foremost. If Papay had finally found himself a wench, they would track her down. They had seen the change in him. When he had come back from her, he was not the sullen unhappy castoff of his tribe. He was a man, and a happy one at that.
"Really, who's acting more like the bandit now, you or her? She's the one riding off with something of yours!" added Angi.
It was true.
Well, at least his men were coming with him. They would have to be careful. Habren was running from him, and she wouldn't appreciate being followed. They would have to move right away. This was not much a problem. They had been living like this for about a year, and had learned to be ready to leave at a moments notice. They rode after their quarry, keeping a safe distance.
Tristan and Rebekah were both on edge. They were being followed. They didn't want to alarm the others, not when they had no evidence of this. All they had was a stab of intuition. Rebekah looked hard at Habren. Why had she agreed to come? Lancelot would say nothing on the subject. She didn't want to pry, but something was distinctly odd about the situation.
That night, Rebekah asked Tristan to braid her hair again. Rebekah only asked this when she felt a fight coming on. The braids kept her hair from impeding her vision. Tristan was not all that surprised by the request. He could feel it too. As he manipulated her hair, he noticed how tense all of her muscles were. She thought she could hide these things from him, but it was a futile effort. Once he had secured the last braid, he set to work at loosening her up a bit. Her muscles sang in the morning.
They arrived at the village without incident, much to the surprise of Tristan and Rebekah. The air hummed with tension, yet no one had approached them in a violent way. They had not found out who was tracking them.
The travelers were welcomed with open arms. Gawain's uncle didn't look too happy, but he decided to voice his opinion later. Unnatural female creatures.
Habren stuck out as the only visitor without anyone in her tent. The unattached men of the village took notice, much to the displeasure and thanks of Lancelot. He could never decide which emotion was more strong. Yes, he wanted her to find an unattached man, but he still couldn't push away the "older brother" protective instincts. He didn't like the thoughts going through the men's minds. He was all too aware that he had these same thoughts all the time. (NOT FOR HABREN! GET YOUR HEADS OUT OF THE GUTTER! EWW!) It was not comforting knowledge. There were far too many scoundrels like himself in the world.
Gawain's parents were so happy to have their son home, they didn't care that he had married someone that they didn't even know. She was pretty enough, she made him happy.
If Galahad's family felt any regrets about their son wishing to marry a foreigner, they hid it well, as they all crushed her in a group embrace. She was so happy that they didn't hate her, she nearly cried. Galahad smiled. Yes, Deirdre would be fine here.
Gawain and Galahad's village had not had the same ratio imbalance of male to female. The Romans had not drawn quite so heavily here, and there was not much competition for mates. Of this, the Woads were very grateful, though Rebekah thought she would have welcomed the opportunity to beat someone senseless, if such an opportunity presented itself. She hadn't done any fighting for quite some time; her skills were probably getting rusty.
Habren went to her tent. She needed to get ready for the welcoming feast, and had nothing special to wear. No one would notice, anyway. At least, no one that she wished to notice her. She was not blind to the lusty eyes of the males that had seen her arrive. She was suddenly tired. Her cot looked particularly inviting. Perhaps, just a small nap...
Papay watched the village from a safe distance, memorizing where Habren's tent was. He would need to be able to find it in the dark. He had felt a bit guilty, slipping it into her water skin as she slept, but quickly dismissed the emotion. She was the one who left him, without any explanation. She was the one who should feel guilty. When the others were at the feast, he would slip into her tent, and bring her back to his. She would awake soon after. Ten, she would have some explaining to do.
Angi, Magovey, and Afsati secretly found the situation hilariously funny. If he thought this wench wouldn't be in a flaming temper with him when she woke up in his bed, he had obviously gone off the deep end. He had so much to learn about women.
These bandits were unlike any others. They didn't steal because they enjoyed it. They stole to eat. They didn't use violence against anyone who posed no threat to them. And, to be quite honest, they were enjoying this little quest. Most would have deserted or killed such a leader by now. Instead, they patted his head, and told him not to worry in their most condescending voice. Papay was so distracted that he rarely registered how amused they were with his predicament.
Everyone prepared for the feast. The Woads donned their usual wedding garb, much to the pleasure of their male companions. Deirdre didn't want to be the only one showing off so much skin. It would surely shock the locals.
When night fell, the village gathered around the fire for the welcoming/wedding feast. Galahad and Deirdre had been married, and they would be celebrating that marriage, as well as Gawain and Radha's, rather belatedly.
Gawain tried to maneuver Radha so that they didn't have to sit anywhere near his inflammatory uncle. Fate could be rather fickle. He ended up between the love of his life, and the uncle from hell.
The uncle glared at Radha continually for over an hour before speaking. Radha coolly ignored him, speaking instead to Gawain and his mother. She was told a rather charming tale of Gawain in diapers. It involved said diaper falling off, and a stray dog dragging it about. Little Gawain toddled after the dog completely sans clothes, as the entire village paused to laugh. Gawain tried to stop the woman, but he remembered that one often couldn't reason with one's mother. It never ended well.
At least the tale has some purpose. He had never seen her laugh this much, and was glad that she could indeed find something amusing, even if it was at his own expense.
"So, how'd you seduce my nephew?" asked the demonic uncle, breaking up the laughter. Silence immediately followed. The tribe looked at Radha, waiting for her reaction. How would she handle this?
"It wasn't terribly difficult. You should really talk to him about that." Said Radha, calmly.
The tribe smiled. Gawain joined them. Radha hadn't yelled, screamed, or castrated him yet. It was quite an accomplishment.
Lancelot smiled too, and looked about. Where was Habren?
Papay heard the laughter, happy to have noise to cover his movements. It would not do for him to be caught now. He weaved through the maze of tents, stopping outside the tent that swam in her unique scent. He pushed the tent flap aside, and his eyes fixed on the figure on the cot. She looked so peaceful in her sleep. A fresh wave of laughter reminded him that his time was limited. He could dwell on her demeanor later. He gently wrapped her blanket around her and picked her up. She moaned into his neck, startling him. The herb was wearing off. He had to get her back to his tent before she woke and threw a fit. It wouldn't help him remain hidden.
He made it back without incident. His men followed him with their eyes, curious just how he expected to control her anger when she awoke.
She was still fast asleep. It would take a bit more time for the herbs to wear off. He lay down on his cot, snuggling her into his arms. He had a feeling that she would not be feeling quite so mild when she awoke, and feared that he had angered the dragon a bit too much.
He hadn't slept well for a week, and his eyes were feeling heavy. He settled his head into her chest, and her unconscious fingers laced though his hair, pulling him closer. He sighed, and let his eyes close.
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