A thousand apologies for my tardiness. And broken promise.

That evening, Christopher removed the sword in its scabbard from his belt and put it on the small table that had been supplied with his room. Well, their room. Marius had been too cheap to give them a room each to stay in, so it looked like they were sharing one. The room was fairly small. There was only a round, dark wooden table, and one bed. As close as you could get to a bed, anyway: it was basically just a topless wooden box with a mattress inside. There was one lumpy pillow and a single sheet.

"Not exactly the Ritz," said Christopher. He flicked a small insect off the bed. "More like the nits."

Katie opened the wooden door and entered the room. There was a bundle of brown cloth under her left arm. "Hey," she greeted, shutting the door behind her.

"Hey," Christopher replied. "Where'd you go, dear? I missed you."

Katie laughed. "I've been getting my swords," she said. "Check it out." She held out the bundle and unwrapped it inside were a pair of deadly-looking shortswords. They weren't as classy as Christopher's was (his being made for a legionary); the blades looked a little crude, but much deadlier than his, no doubt.

"Very nice, 'Raven'," said Christopher, standing to examine her weapons.

"Thanks, 'Edwin'," said Katie. "Yours looks a bit cooler, though."

"Meh, that's not what counts in battle," Christopher pointed out.

"True," said Katie.

"Well, I'm tired, I'm going to turn in," said Christopher.

"OK," said Katie. "I think I'm going to as well. Do you want the bed?"

"Nah, it's alright, you can have it," said Christopher. "But I call the sheet."

He pulled the beige sheet from the bed and folded it, and laid it down on the floor. He removed his belt, but left his other clothes on. He lay down on the makeshift bed. It afforded at least some comfort. He closed his eyes.

"That doesn't look too comfortable," said Katie. "You sure you don't want the bed?"

Chris waved his hand dismissively. "You go ahead," he said. He yawned. "See you in the morning."

"Goodnight," said Katie, lying down, and closing her eyes.

About five minutes passed. Katie could not seem to get to sleep. Getting flung one and a half thousand years back in the time had a way of getting the better of her mind. She rolled over onto her front and looked at Christopher, his mouth half-open, drooling on the stone floor. She suppressed a laugh at his comical position.

Another ten minutes passed. Still Katie had not gotten to sleep. Christopher was lucky to be such a heavy sleeper. Wait...

She rolled onto her front again. "Chris, are you asleep?" she asked.

About a second went by, before Christopher said, "Yes."

Kelsey lay awake, staring at the ceiling, in her bed. Arthur was good enough to give her a room whilst she was there. She had had to explain to him that she had only just arrived from some town she'd forgotten the name of already. Being the kind man he was, Arthur had given her a very nice dinner and room, with a comfy feather bed and a nice little dresser. She had a good view of the sprawling fields out her window, as well. A warm breeze drifted in from the fells.

But there was no peace of mind, even with the calming sound of crickets chirping and the pleasant wind.

How could this have happened? And where was everyone else? One minute, she was an average teenager (with above average intelligence and looks, granted), just hanging out with her friends, and then POOF! She's a barmaid in Camelot in the late 400's.

She was worried about her friends. How did they get separated like this? Did they get zapped into Medieval England as well, or was it just her?

Whatever the case, she hoped sincerely that they would be back together soon.

Kelsey realized suddenly that she was thirsty. But she didn't know how; she'd been pulling pints all day, and liquid wasn't high on her list of favourite things at the moment.

But she was thirsty...where could she get a drink?

Well, she'd remembered seeing a well at the tavern (which was only just down the hall from her room), so she decided to just pop out quietly there and get a sip of water. She got out of her comfortable bed and cautiously walked out the door. At least with the stone floors, there were no boards to creak. She tiptoed down the hallway and out into the open-air tavern. There was a washed mug on the bar that she had forgotten to put a way, which she took over to the well.

She dipped it into the water and took a drink. It was nice and cool, but not too cold. She finished the mug, and filled it up again. She was going to take this into her room, but stopped short. She was not alone. Sitting at a secluded table, near the wall, was a man. On closer inspection, Kelsey realized who it was: Sir Lancelot.

He was boredly whittling a small hole in the wood of the table with his sword, staring despondently at the blade. There was an empty mug lying on its side next to the sword (probably once filled with ale). He did not seem in the best mood for conversation, so Kelsey decided to just be off. She was about to, when he spoke for the first time.

"Nice night," he said, not taking his eyes off his sword.

Kelsey turned to look at the knight. "It is, isn't it?" she agreed nervously. Lancelot looked up at her.

"I didn't catch your name," he said.

"I'm Katarina," she said. "I know who you are. You're Sir Lancelot."

"In all my glory," said Lance. "Tell me, Katarina: is this place your home?"

Kelsey was somewhat puzzled by the odd question. "It is now," she said, and it pained her to say so.

"Then let me give you a bit of advice," said Lancelot. "Don't leave it."

With that, he fell into an uneasy slumber, his head resting on the table. Kelsey, happy to have talked to Lancelot, but wishing it could have been under better circumstances, placed her mug of water next to the knight's head and returned to her room.

Krista leaned her back against the tree trunk that projected through the floor and roof of her hut. She pulled her itchy burlap blanket up to her shoulders and stared out the doorway. A few Woad sentries patrolled the rope bridges that connected her with the rest of the elevated part of the village. Every so often, one would walk past her door, spear in hand.

She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but couldn't. Every time she was about to drop off, she was jolted back to consciousness by a frightening sound of the wilderness or a sentry barking orders to another. Not to mention the infuriating, overwhelming background noise of the creatures of the night.

Krista eyed the bow and quiver of arrows which hung on her wooden wall. Her new weapons. She wanted to test them out sometime, before she had to use them. "If I have to use them," she said quietly to herself.

What better time to try them out than now? She couldn't get to sleep, there wasn't much else to do, and she had a window on her hut which looked out into a clearing. Why not? She stood up and walked over to the bow and arrows. She took the longbow and selected an arrow and walked over to the window. She nocked the missile.

Taking aim into the middle of the clearing, she let the arrow fly. She regretted shooting as soon as she had done so, however; the twang was sure to alert some of the sentries. Krista hung the bow back up and walked out the door.

Sure enough, the guards were standing alert, their spears held in both hands. The archers hidden in the high branches had their bowstrings taught. Krista walked up to the nearest guard and told him about the small misunderstanding. He lowered his spear and nodded to another, who did so in turn. Eventually, this set off a chain reaction and all the guards loosened their weapons.

Krista apologized and returned to her hut. She leaned back up uncomfortably against her tree. She pulled up the blanket and held it tightly around her. It irritated her face, but she couldn't care less...she was far too tired.

Sharayah lay on her front, her eyes wide open. She was lying on the grass under a heavy brown fur blanket. There was no force in heaven, earth, or hell that would get her to sleep that night. Well, would you, if you were camped out with a Saxon army?

Her fingers were on the pommel of her new sword. She didn't feel safe at all without it.

Rayah turned her eyes to look at Courtney. Apparently, her sister had slid under her blanket, because all Sharayah could see was a mound of fur. She nudged the spot where Courtney's shoulder probably was gently with her hand.

"Can you get to sleep?" she whispered to her sister, edging closer. There was no answer. Rayah moved Courtney's blanket away, to discover...

Nothing. Courntey was gone. Sharayah's heart stopped for a moment. Where was she? Had the Saxons –

"Oh God, no..." she said, beginning to feel the first onset of panic. "Where is she?"

"Where's who?" came a female voice near her. Sharayah looked up to see Courtney creeping back over, hopping over the backs of snoring Saxons to get back to her spot. Once she had gotten back under her blanket, Sharayah immediately began berating her.

"Where did you go?" she demanded, her voice a hiss. A Saxon next to her grunted and shifted. "You could have been killed!"

"Sorry, I couldn't resist," said Courtney. A smile was tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"...What did you do?" asked Sharayah, though she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know the answer.

"You know that fire over there?" said Courtney, nodding her head over to the ashes of a fire. "The ashes were cold, so I just had to."

"What?"

"Remember that Wulfgar dude? Well, he might be interested to find out where his new...makeup job came from." Her face spread into a wide grin, and she shut her eyes.

Sharayah couldn't help but feel amusement also filling her. She shut her own eyes, concluding it was safe, reduced her grip on the sword, and drifted into a troubled sleep.