Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the film King Arthur, nor do I own the myth, or anything else, just the girl character who I realize doesn't have a name yet.

Chapter Three: Meetings in the Forests

I have been traveling for many days now. My thoughts are clearer than they have been for ages! I can breath! There have been many strange sounds in the woods, but no people so far. Of that I am glad. I have had enough of people. I know this is a stupid idea. I don't have any idea as to where I am going. Not down the main path south, but east, and then whereto? I have no where to go, no one to meet, but I don't care. This forest is full of life, and helps me to forget. I have plenty to eat, because I brought my small hunting bow with me, and am making primitive arrows every night. They won't bring down large game, but I am well-off with rabbits and squirrels and birds. I am a good shot, I know this much. I study the plants as I go along. I had an uneasy relationship with the healer of the serf's, she was old, and would train me in return for me going out to the dangerous woods to collect herbs, and helping her. I've started talking to myself a little too, narrating my travels. I roll my eyes, I really am an odd one.

As i walk, Itry to remember a song that my mother used to sing to me, it was so beautiful, but what were the words? I hum the melody out loud and then stop suddenly. What was that sound? Dinner I realize, as I see a rabbit jump from the bushes. I draw an arrow from my quiver when TSEEE an arrow flies by my left ear! A warning shot, perhaps, but I don't stay to find out, and flee in the other direction. I hear footsteps after me, and voices, ack, no the voices were in front of me. I look up to see a group of men staring as their companion follows me. I swear under my breath, which only makes the men laugh.

One comes forward, he looks very young, but I don't recognize his garb. Not Roman, but perchance not Woad or Saxon either. Who else could they be?

"What's this you've found, Tristan?" he asks.

Tristan looks down at me, but doesn't speak. One of the others ventures a guess, "Dinner?" he asks, his long blondish hair catching the light.

I frown, who are these people?

"He's not a Woad," another states. He comes closer, he has dark curling hair, and an extremely intense look in his eyes. He grabs my arm roughly and rolls up my sleeve to reveal a tattoo, signaling my servitude. I am glad he does not see my other tattoo, further up my arm, I am not sure what it means or how I got it. It must have been from my original village. He frowns at the Latin markings, "just a runaway."

The others are not so easily convinced,

"Why would a runaway be in the middle of Woad territory?" the young one questions.

"Perhaps he's really is a Woad? Some kind of trickery?" That's the blond again. Tristan frowns,

"Why were you trying to shot at me with a child's weapon" he asks, holding up my small bow in front of him. Now it is my turn to frown,

"I was aiming for a rabbit."

"You thought I was a rabbit?"

"No! There was something else—"

"You thought my horse was a rabbit?" Tristan looked indignant. I start to respond, but the intense one interrupts me,

"It is still half a days journey back to the fort, we should leave now." He looks at me. "You'll come with us." I wasn't about to argue, they were all armed.

I learn they are knights, and there's not much else they will tell me. I am their prisoner, but they don't question me very much. I listen to their conversation, mostly jest. I am weary though, they seem nice, but they were definitely a threat. I still didn't know what they wanted, or what they thought of me. From what I could tell, they were in no hurry to get back to the fort. They walked most of the way, and stopped to hunt and such. Not your typical efficiency, I think they were coming back from a long hunting trip, and guessing from their speech, they were usually more than the four present. They stopped at a lake once, to examine a deer one of them brought down. They sat down on a log by a lake for awhile, and drank from a flask. The blond, Gawain, one looked up at me,

"Want some?" he gestured to the drink. Yuk, I shook my head.

"What were you doing out here, anyways?" I explained to him the most recent events of my life, but actually left out a bit. Surprisingly, they seemed to accept it, more or less.

"How old are you, my boy?" he speaks to me again. It was strange how easily I had accepted being referred to as a boy, even in the village. I look up and hesitate, I should still let them think I'm a boy, it's safer that way,

"Twelve."

Tristan snorts, and Lancelot laughs out loud. The more diplomatic Gawain reassures me that they were all just as small as I at twelve, which I doubt. Even for a girl, I am tiny. Lancelot eyes Gawain,

"I assure you, I was never that small. However, I do believe you were, in fact, I seem to remembering you being mistaken for a--" he is interrupted by Gawain throwing a large wad of mud at his head, but Galahad continues his sentence,

"Mistaken for a girl! What with your lovely long locks…"

I snicker a little. Gawain looks at me reproachfully,

"What!" he demands.

"Well, you do have awfully pretty hair," I say and then add "Sir," for good measure.