I'm so sorry that it took me so long to update. I got kind of overwhelmed with going back to school and stuff. Thank you so much for the reviews (OrliGolas4eva: love the name! Your review really made me get moving to get ch. 3 up, thank you!)
After Gawain left, things did not improve nor get worse; our family had reached a standstill in all its tragedy and we simply lived. My mother kept her station in a chair by the fire looking at nothing, asleep but awake. Occasionally she would mutter that Gawain would never return and that he was dead already but I refused to listen or let little Wilona hear her; Gawain's promise got me through the day and kept me going until the next one. I looked over the hill everyday hoping to see his smile once again though I knew that I wouldn't be seeing him anytime soon, if at all. I walked around like a zombie, alive but without feeling. I did the chores and took care of Wilona just as I had promised Gawain; but nothing made me happy or even sad; I hung on Gawain's promise and mine in return. I would only be brought back to life by his safe return.
The only thing that somewhat enlivened me was my training. I spent every free moment retreating deep into the woods to our old training grounds. Training was my only outlet for all the emotions that I kept sealed off under my cold face; thoughts and feelings that might have killed me or made me like my mother. When I grasped my bow or threw my knives, none of it mattered. For a few hours I was truly shut off from all of it as I wished to be. Over the years, I spent more and more time in the woods as Wilona grew to be more self sufficient and able to help with the daily chores. I started to shut myself from even her as it became harder to remember my brother's warm smile and mischievous ways; he was the only one that could make me laugh after all the tragedy in our lives. I had become an expert knife thrower and archer, practicing for hours on end with Gawain's old bow and hand made targets; it was as close to being with my brother as I could get. I couldn't bring my self to practice much with the sword as that was what Gawain and I did together. I became a recluse, not talking to anyone in our village and rushing through my chores in order to spend as much time in the woods as possible. I was always covered in dirt, my hands permanently stained and my hair matted with leaves. I wore Gawain's old boots and clothes more often than my own dresses; even as they became tattered I refused to take them off. I even slept in the woods many nights, preferring the comfort I found there to my own home; it was always our sanctuary. It was my own selfishness that caused me to break my promise with Gawain.
On that terrible night, almost three years after Gawain had left, I had stayed late in the woods once again blocking out everything until it was too late. When the screams and heat finally reached me in the woods our village was already beyond help. Flames sprung up from every hut and the air was thick from the acrid smoke and ash and the sickening smell of burning flesh. I knew even before I reached my home that I had filed my family and above all my brother. In one single moment of selfishness I had destroyed our family's legacy and honor. All I could think of as I approached the hut was Gawain's disappointment and anger; he would never forgive me. Seeing the fire and hearing Wilona's helpless voice only confirmed what I had already known. Unflinching, I walked towards the fire; I did not deserve to live for my failure but only to join in the torture I had caused my family. As I walked into the flames I spotted the attacker and threw away all my reason and submitted to rage. Though I had already broken my promise, I would try to what I still could; I would die fighting against those that killed my family. I would fight not for myself, but for Gawain. I threw a knife from my boot into the leg of the bulky man walking away from me. He turned and muttered something like, "foolish girl! You could have gotten away but now you will join the others." I ran straight into him with only a small dagger to fight with. I kicked and punched and slashed as hard as I could inflicting little damage at my young age and small stature. Within seconds he had struck me bluntly on the head with his weapon. The blood gushed over my eyes and I fought on making one final slash on his cheek as I gave over to my lightheadedness and sunk to the ground, closing my eyes, leading the brut to believe that I was dead. How I wish he was right. The last thing I saw before I submitted to dark oblivion was his heinous smile turning away from me, cruel eyes boring into me.
I awoke three days later with light piercing my eyes through the thick, tall trees overhead. I lay awake for a moment hesitant to rise; I thought I had fallen asleep once again in the clearing and that I had to return home to my chores, something I always dreaded. I shook off the bad dream from the night before as I began to stir.
"Ah, you are finally awake, my dear. We feared you may never open you eyes." I recognized the voice as a woman from my village as I quickly rose, falling out of my false hopes immediately. As kind as her voice was, it was like a death sentence. Or I wish it had been. I was flooded with the horrors of the night before and my head throbbed in pain.
"I wish I hadn't," I muttered, not intending her to hear, as I took the water and pushed away the food she offered. I thirsted intensely, but could not bear to eat.
"You should be grateful," the woman scolded me, "someone pulled you out just in time, you are lucky…"
"To be alive?" I interrupted. "How is that? My whole family is dead; all I had left is gone. Tell me what I have to be grateful for? I'd be grateful to have burned with them!" My outburst turned the heads of many survivors nearby; the somber looks in their eyes told me that they felt the same; I was just the only willing to speak it. The woman shook her head as I quickly walked away.
"You are alive for a purpose whether you believe it or not. You must only discover why you have been left." I heard her speak softly as I left the clearing that the small group of survivors had made camp in.
'The only purpose my life holds is to punish me,' was I all I could think in return as Gawain's words to me lay heavily on my mind. I walked around for hours in a daze of stoic guilt, not even paying attention to where I was going. Near dark, I found myself on the edge of our charred village, remains still smoking, an acrid smell permeating the air. I walked as if one condemned to where our hut had been, forcing myself to relive the terrible event. I stood on the same ground I had that night and the hut was ablaze again, heat stinging my face. Tears streamed down my face as I reached up to my forehead, feeling the deep cut above my eyebrow, an unnecessary reminder that I would carry for the rest of my life. I fell to my knees, mind racing with questions I would never have the answers to. I screamed out to whatever power would hear me: "why has my family suffered? Why was I still alive?" At some point, I must have fallen asleep. I awoke in the dark hours of the morning, covered in ashes, but with some new grave purpose.
I put it upon myself to find my brother and tell him of my broken promise. I must face his disappointment in order to complete my self-imposed punishment. The other survivors grieved while I replaced my sadness with coldness and self-loathing. I would shed no more tears; I hadn't the right. I rose from my family's ashes taking the dagger I had dropped on that horrible night. I took one more look at what was left before running back to the camp.
Quickly and quietly, I gathered what little food and water I could find. I stole a cloak to cover my ashen and charred clothing and set out on my way as the sun started to show itself over a distant hill beyond the forest. I knew Gawain was to be sent to the isle of Briton, somewhere near Hadrian's wall. I was determined to find him or die trying. As my brothers had at my age, I set out into the unknown, alone but not worried for I cared nothing for my life. I traveled the wild of Sarmatia for months before seeing another person, scavenging what I could to survive, becoming a hardened wanderer. When I did reach a village, I only stopped only long enough to beg scraps of food and steal a horse in the dead of night. I spent over a year traveling west across vast lands, becoming so rugged and weary that I was no longer even recognized as a girl in Gawain's old clothes and the worn cloak I wore over my face. I passed through the Roman territory unnoticed, just another wanderer. I spoke to no one and kept to the forests and outskirts, avoiding human contact. I finally reached the last outpost on the shore, where I would make my final descent to Briton. I had never seen the ocean and the spray on my face brought me more life than I had felt since Gawain had left; nevertheless I was heavy with the thought of seeing him again. I was joyful at the thought of being with him again but my guilt overwhelmed any thoughts of a happy reunion. I had broken his promise and I deserved no forgiveness.
I stowed away on a ship of Roman soldiers headed for the isle and managed to remain unseen in a storage area with plenty of food and water to keep me through the journey. I reached the isle nearly two years after starting my long journey. Briton's harsh winter worked against me as I made my final stretch towards my brother. I followed the trail of some soldiers headed for the wall, but lost sight of them in the heavy rains. In my final days, I was famished and dehydrated, walking aimlessly towards my fate. I had developed a sickness in my chest from the rain soaking through my meager coverings. My final trek was through Woad territory, but they did not bother to attack the pathetic drifter they saw trudging through the mud. I looked as if I would not survive another day of biting cold and downpour. One late night, I saw the great wall before me and I pulled myself on fueled by my guilt. My steps were slow and weary; I nearly collapsed with each one. The outpost appeared next to the wall and I continued on through the bitter cold. I coughed and my body rattled with pain, each step closer to death. I reached the gate, unable to pull my exhausted body any further. I fell to the ground with no chance of getting up. As my heavy eyelids finally gave in, the last thing I heard was the gallop of a horse and a distant voice in the dark.
That chapter may not have been the best; I had to get through all of that background stuff on how Brigid gets to the knights, so Ch. 4 will introduce them all and have Brigid reveal what has happened to her family to Gawain. Then we can get to all the fun knight stuff! I was wondering if you guys think I should make up some more knights since this is taking place before the movie or if you would prefer that I stick with the core group. Let me know; I'm writing this for those who are reading it. The love part will come up in the next few chapters too; I'm not quite sure who the knight is yet. ( I have a pretty good idea, but its so hard to choose!) Please review if you read and keep me inspired; I'm open to any suggestions or help so let me know what you wanna read and I'll write it!
PS Ch.4 will come a lot sooner than CH.3 did; I promise!