billieJoe is effin sexy0: Hey! I'm glad you like Arian…I tend to think all of my OCs have a bit of an attitude problem, but then doesn't everyone at one time or another:) I'm glad you think my writing style is ok, I am actually less versed in writing in the 3rd person, so I thought I'd try to get more comfortable with it while writing this story. Anyway, thanks again and if you have any suggestions, etc, later on you know I'd love to hear them! ;)

Chapter Seven – Throwing Stones

"Why do you carry a quiver and no bow?" Gawain asked as the troupe neared Hadrian's Wall. Arian glanced his way, a little sheepishly. Then she shrugged and pulling out an arrow, offered it to him.

"They're not regular arrows," she offered. "And I didn't have time to dig through the supplies looking for another bow."

He took it and scrutinized it before finally handing it back. "It's iron tipped at both ends."

"Yes, and it hasn't been feathered yet." Arian slid the arrow back into the case. She shrugged. "My sister likes to use double edged arrows. With feathers and a point at each end."

"I've never heard of that before," Galahad remarked.

Arian shrugged. "Her idea, not mine. My thought was if I ran out of stones, I could try throwing the arrows, like this."

She withdrew an arrow and threw it at a nearby leaf on the side of the road. The arrow stuck in the ground, but missed the mark horribly. Arian shrugged. "Pretty bad," she admitted. "But its all I got. I'm not much good with a sword and everyone I know seems to be able to best me when it comes to archery contests." She paused. "I've discovered if I can throw something, particularly if it's not straight, like an arrow or a knight, but round like a rock, I can hit my mark. If it's not," she shrugged. "I'm no good."

"You were using a sling, I saw," Arthur spoke up.

"Yeah, but I can't aim with that thing. I almost always miss."

"Hmmm."

"Yeah," Arian shrugged. "I'm still searching. I may resort to gathering stones and throwing them," she joked.

"You could try that," Gawain was all seriousness.

Arian gave him one of her looks. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, but how much damage is throwing a rock going to do? Really?"

Tristan spoke up from beside her. She jumped. He'd been riding ahead a few minutes ago and Arian didn't know he'd returned.

"It depends on how strong an arm you got."

Dragonet said, "Have you ever tried it, m'lady?"

Arian frowned. "No."

Arthur chuckled. "Well, I think it's the unanimous vote of the knights that you do."

Arian rolled her eyes. "It'll be my life at stake, not yours, so I'll thank you to think again."

She kicked Misty. "I've got to help check the horses."

As it turned out, the horses were fine. A few had minor cuts and bruises to the legs, and one had a small gash on his shoulder, but other than that, no one would have guessed that they had just trampled a dozen or more armed warriors.

Arian checked with Ffanci, who had retired her bow (she frequently used a bow, but preferred two short knives), and was smearing a healing cream on a scrape on the last horse's knee. Arian watched her a minute. At one point, she and Ffanci had been good friends. But then Arian had gone away, and when she'd come back, she'd found her younger sister had grown much closer to their brothers. Plus, Ffanci was in her early teens and susceptible to all the strange things young people do when they are that age.

Arian galloped to the head of the column as they approached civilization again. Hadrian's wall was imposing, running off into over the hills as far as the eye could see in either direction. On the south side of the wall, Arthur said, there was a Roman fortress where they would be safe. But Arian couldn't help wondering if she would better off with the woads.

She turned to look at the hills behind them and caught sight of Galahad staring at her.

"What is that?"

"What's what?" She asked, confused.

"Your necklace," he motioned.

Arian frowned. "This one?" she asked, touching the braided leather one fastened tightly around her neck.

Galahad shook his head. "No, the other one. The horseshoe shaped one."

Arian looked down and saw that it had fallen out of her shirt somewhere along the way. She tucked it back out of sight, trying to shrug nonchalantly.

"Just something I picked up."

"That's not Celtic," Gawain said, and his voice sounded almost accusing. "That's Saxon."

"What of it?" Arian snapped, before realizing she'd said the wrong thing. Her father was staring at her now as well.

"Misty," Arian said, still glaring daggers at the knights, "Hiya."

The mare shook her head as if to say it was a pleasure to run, and cantered through the long grass, drawing ahead of everyone else.

"They wouldn't understand," Arian told the mare.

The horse snorted softly.

Arian looked up at the sky and saw the hawk soaring overhead. And the memory overwhelmed her.

She was looking at the sky when he walked up beside her.

"What do you see?"

"I see a bird," she said. "Freedom."

"Freedom for what?"

"An eagle is a bird of prey."

"Ahh…the freedom to hunt."

"Yes."

"To take that which is essential to his well being…"

And then a song…

On wings we fly,

Our eyes looking down

Below, below, the earth is bound

Fire and torment,

But on the wind we soar

Freedom found from life's cold core

We see the hunted

As hunters take it

Don't try to stop us

Don't stand in our way.

The vision faded.

"He said essential to his well being," Arian remembered. "Not his life." She paused and patted the mare's neck. "What does this mean? Am I out of place?"

Misty did not provide an answer and Arian rode alone. At her back, the others watched, wondering what her history really was.