Darkness was all around her as she struggled to open her eyes. In the dimness of the tent she saw the glow of a small fire outside and the sound of the crackling of the flames. Looking around in the dim light she found herself enclosed in a tent.

"Well, this seems strangely familiar." She said softly to herself remembering the day she woke in the Saxon camp. Like that day her body surged with pain, but after the years she spent with Cynric this was nothing. She had experienced far worse from her Saxon commander. Forcing herself she raised herself to a sitting position. She had been covered with several blankets and to her suprise she was not bound. From the fire light outside she surveyed the space about her looking for her weapons, she cursed when she saw they were gone. She replayed the battle in her mind. Cyndric and Cerdic would not be happy with her when she returned. She had lost her entire group of men, she would pay dearly for it. The sound of approaching footsteps brought her eyes to the flap of the tent. Crouching, a man entered carrying a bowl and a few pieces of clothe. Standing upright he towered over her. His head was shaven and a scare was borne on his face. As he made his was to her she backed herself up but soon found that she was cornered, unarmed and alone with the enemy.

The man must have seen the panic in her eyes for when he spoke it was quiet and without loathing. "I mean you no harm. You must remain still or the wound will reopen." he signaled to the bandaged that covered her shoulder wound. "The others did not need much attention and only needed to be cleaned. You passed out from the loss of blood."

Her fingers stroked the still fresh cuts that were on her legs and torso before she looked to her shoulder. The blood started to seep through the bandage that covered it.

"It needs to be cleaned before it gets infected." He said placing the bowl and clothe on the ground beside him. Dipping one piece into the water he reached up to remove the bandage.

"Dont touch me!" She shouted. Beating his hand away she retreated as far back as she could.

Her actions caused him to be taken back. "I mean you no harm, you , must trust me. If I do not cleanse the would it will get infected and it may have to be removed, if you survived the infection." The woman before him still huddled in the corner, unwilling to trust in his words. Her eyes wide with anticipation and what he believed to be fear. "I am Dagonet." His said trying to get her to lower her guard.

"I know you." She uttered, her voice laced with bitterness. The man looked at her with suprise in his eyes. "You are Sarmatian. You and the others killed my men!"

"Not all." Dagonet answered with a little chuckle in his voice, "Atleast I dont think so."

Her eyes filled with spite with the man before her as he laughed at her fallen commrades. True she did not like them, but the were in her charge and the guilt of their deaths filled her mind.

"Please." He urged, washclothe in hand. "I will not hurt you."

"Tell that to the one that shot me." Kendra said still refusing his aid.

"In Tristans defense you were trying to kill one of us." Dagonet said "Now please." He persisted.

Watching every move the man made, Kendra reluctantly let him clean her injury. Every move she watched and waited for him to strike, for him to reveal a weapon and kill her right there, but none came. He noticed her eyes watching him. 'What did they do to you' he thought to himself. As gently as his rough hands could manage he unwrapped her wound and rinsed it clean. The water, once clear and clean, now was dark and bloodied.

"So what do you and your men intend to do to me Sarmatian? What ever you have in mind I can asure you it has already been done." hostility hung in her words as she spoke.

"Dagonet. As for you fate, that is not for me to decide. Arthur will be the one to answer that." Dagonet answered, his eyes searched her face for recognition a hint of knowing but none came. "You were brave to take on Lancelot by yourself after you men were dead." His eyes still searched her face.

"And I would have won had I not been hit." she spat, "Atleast then I would have had something to show for my failure. The death of a Sarmatian by my hands...Cerdic may have forgiven me for the lose of his men.."

Dagonet could not believe his ears. This could not be the woman he had known eight years ago. The one that fought beside them, the one who had given her heart away to the man she now admitted she wanted to kill.

"All done." He said collecting the dirty rags and water.

Looking from her shoulder to his eyes she saw something the Saxons had never shown her. Compassion. Compassion and pain wrought his face.

"You should rest for a little while longer. Are you hungry?" he asked eyeing the womans frame. "I will return." he said preparing to leave.

"Why?" she spoke quietly "Why do you look at me the way you do."

"Excuse me?" Dagonet answered.

Her eyes met with his. "Why do you look at me with kindness. I am your enemy."

"Because... you remind me of someone I knew long ago." he answered. Sadness filling his voice. "I will return with your food."

She waited until his footsteps fell faint before she moved. Reaching up she felt the new bandage that wrapped her shoulder, it did not hurt much. On her knees she reached the flap of the tent and peered out into the night. She watched as Dagonet crouched before a roaring fire and began to load miscallaenious items onto a plate. She counted the men that surrounded the fire. Six Knights and the Roman commander. Her men had killed known of them.

"Cerdic will not be pleased." she said to herself. Her mind pondered the possible scenarios that could take place were she to return without her group. She watched as the men conversed. Occasionally one would look over or point to the tent that hid her from the world. As hard as she listened she could not hear what they were saying.