Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise belongs to me.

Llynya closed the tavern door behind her and wandered down to the well that had been dug in the field below. Louisa seemed kind, and the tavern was clean and obviously popular with the locals - not that there were many other opportunities for socialising given the isolation of the place. Grinning to herself, she thought of Charlotte's easy manner amongst the patrons. A flirtatious look here, a witty put-down there; perhaps one day she too would be so comfortable when dealing with the rough looking men who frequented the place. So far she had managed to drop a pitcher of ale over the lap of a man who had attempted to put his hand up her skirt, and broken two mugs when she had tripped over the pile of kindling in front of the fire. Not the most auspicious of starts. Rolling her tired shoulders, she idly swung the iron pail she carried and headed down the path.

It was a pretty place, for all it's dangers she thought. On the hills that rose above the houses the trees were rusting slowly under the autumn chill, the blaze of the leaves a bright herald of autumn. The sky was clear and calm, the forest crouched malevolently below it. Llynya ran her eyes over the swaying woodland, searching in vain for any sign of the knights, but it was still and quiet; there was no white flash of Arthurs' horse in the gloom, nor the gleam of sunlight on chain-mail. Sighing, she pulled the heavy bucket from the well and poured the cold water into her pail. Her little village seemed very far away, as did the events of the morning. She should not have made her feelings so obvious to Gawain - he would be gone soon enough, and despite how good it had felt, how right, the knights would not stay here once they had removed whatever threatened the village. It was bad enough to make that mistake once - to do it again would be true stupidity.

She winced as the water splashed her skirt and stopped dead in her tracks as a shrill whistle echoed through the valley. It seemed to come from the edge of the forest, and looking back Llynya smiled uncertainly at the shadowy figure at the edge of the woods. Tom? Something big and black moved beside it, and Llynya dropped the bucket she was holding, drenching the ground with icy water. Whatever that was it certainly wasn't Lark. The creature was huge and moved with a sleek grace that was wholly unlike any dog she had ever seen. For a moment she watched as the light caught it's amber eyes and then she was running in utter panic, her shoes slipping in the mud and any scream she had thought to utter choked in her throat as the beast bounded towards her.

"Quick!" Before her, Charlotte shoved the tavern door open and reached out for Llynya's hand, her bright eyes wide with fear. "Come on!"

Llynya tangled her fingers into the younger girls', her shoulder glancing against the doorframe and kicked the door shut behind her.

"What is.."

"No time. We heard the whistle," the girl said breathlessly. Something heavy crashed against the door, and both girls skidded to a halt. The tavern was in uproar, the villagers scrambling outside with no thought or heed for their fellows, women dragging their frightened children behind them as they fled.

"Charlie! The lock!"

Dimly, Llynya recognised Louisa's voice and managed to make sense of what she had said. Together the two girls ran back the way they had come and shoved their shoulders against the quivering timber, Charlotte desperately fumbling at the dead-bolt. With a sharp scrape of metal against metal she managed to push it across, and whatever was trying to pound it's way through gave a low growl of frustration. The door shook once again, the slash of what sounded like claws against the wood as harsh as the breath that tore from the two girls that slowly backed away on the other side.

"The barn." Llynya said hoarsely, "we have to…"

"Too late." Charlotte grabbed Llynya's arm and pulled her towards the kitchens. "We've got no chance if we go outside now." Scrambling onto the big table beside the oven, she pulled at a loop of rope tucked under one of the ceiling supports, revealing a trapdoor. "Come on, hurry."

"What?" Looking up in bemusement, the older girl followed her, hoisting herself with difficulty into what seemed to be a rarely-used attic. Charlotte slammed the hatch down after her, shaking her head emphatically when Llynya opened her mouth to protest.

"Shut up and stay still," she whispered.

Llynya did as she said. The patrons of the tavern had obviously fled, and in the silence her breathing seemed terrifyingly loud in the darkness. Charlotte grabbed her hand tightly, her blonde hair falling over her face, her eyes watching the floor below them through the gaps in the floorboards intently. For a moment there was nothing, and Llynya relaxed slightly - perhaps whatever it was had left, perhaps it had gone to hunt other prey, perhaps…

The door crashed open, the dead-bolt flying across the room and thudding against the far wall. Llynya gripped Charlotte's hand and held her breath as the shadowy creature below them padded into the tavern. It was hard to tell what it looked like - it moved with the grace of a cat but was far bigger, it's skin seemingly both gold and black. In the silence she could hear the snort of it's breath, the soft thump of it's paws on the dirt floor. It slunk around the room, and when it's huge claws gripped the table and it lifted itself towards the ceiling, Llynya closed her eyes and bit her lip. The beast below them was not like any animal she had ever seen before - not even in stories that she had heard as a child had she ever imagined something like this. Charlottes' fingers tightened around hers, but neither of them made a sound, and when they both opened their eyes the kitchen was empty and the tavern entirely silent.

"I think it's gone." Charlotte whispered nervously. "If it had seen us then…"

"I know." Llynya let out an unsteady breath. "Do you think that everyone got out? Louisa was in there.."

"She'll be alright." The blonde girl squeezed her hand as though in search of comfort. "Best to stay put for a bit though - the others will let us know when it's time to come out. I haven't heard anyone screaming… I think we're alright…"

Llynya gave what might have been a laugh in normal circumstances. "Lovely place this isn't it? Anything else I should know about? No mad enchanters or frogs falling from the sky?"

Charlotte giggled shakily, "just old Danny, and he's usually more drunk than mad."
"I'll watch out for him then." Watching warily through the floorboards, they huddled together and waited for any sign that it would be safe to leave the attic.

Gawain listened idly to Lancelot and Galahad arguing over some trivial dispute and tried not to think of Llynya. He was doing the right thing by leaving her in the village, he knew that, but it did not come as much comfort. He was pledged to Rome, he was pledged to this cursed country - and when Arthur told him to ride he did so, when Arthur told him to kill he picked up his axe and wielded it against whatever threatened his brothers. Home was a distant memory now, the whisper of his mothers' voice when he was young and tired a sweet dream that did not come nearly often enough. Fifteen years of bloodshed had cut deeply into such peaceful memories, and in truth he could hardly remember a time when rest was not merely an opportunity to ease his aching body and provide a brief respite from the knowledge that he was nothing more than a means to the end for men that he had only contempt for. He had buried enough knights to know that the burn of the cold air in his lungs was a reminder of what many had lost, and the luxury of feeling anything at all was something to be savoured rather than avoided. Nonetheless, it seemed a bitter victory.

"No point in dwelling on the past."

Gawain looked over at the quiet scout that had ridden up beside him with surprise. "Thanks Tristan - for someone who spends their life flitting around the countryside, you seem to have an uncanny way of turning up when you aren't wanted."

The older man shrugged, flicking his tangled hair from his eyes with unstudied grace. "You young pups are too easy to read."

"Young pups?" Gawain snorted with both outrage and amusement. " After all we've seen, all we've done? Do you really…"

"Yeah, yeah," the scout seemed bored of the conversation, his brown eyes scanning the woodland around them. "Give it a few years, then you'll understand."

"You mean I won't care." Gawain met his gaze briefly. "Don't you ever think about home, about having a wife, a family?"

For a moment something flickered in Tristans' dark eyes. "We belong to Arthur, he belongs to Rome and Rome is crumbling even as we speak. If we are lucky we will be free before it falls. That is all we can hope for. To waste your dreams on what can never be is folly." Nudging his horse forward he cantered into the dark forest without another word.

Gawain sighed. If he lived to be a hundred he would never understand that man, yet he had to admit that he had a point. His time with Llynya had been brief and sweet - a taste of what might have been had he not been pledged to Rome. He would not tell her of the coins he had given to Tom in return for his promise to protect her - and it had been difficult enough to get the man to accept them at all. As much as he wanted to take her with him, it would not be fair, and he would not leave her to the mercy of the soldiers at the wall. Perhaps when they were released from their duties, perhaps when they were free…

"Knights." Arthurs' stern voice pierced his reverie, and Gawain tightened his hold on his reins, one hand falling unconsciously to the axe in his belt. As they entered the village he could see the cause for alarm. Once again there was no sign of life, no people who would have surely welcomed them back exuberantly. No Llynya he thought with a sudden lurching sickness.

"The barn." Dagonet was as practical usual, swinging off his horse and drawing his sword. Looking back at Arthur, he waited for the big Roman to dismount, Excalibur shining in his hand.

"We stay together - Galahad, Tristan, free your bows. The rest of you be alert and do not let your guard down."

The knights slid from their horses and reached for their weapons. There was no need for words between them: Galahads' eyes were narrowed as he pulled back his bowstring, Bors' blades flashing in the sunlight. As silent and deadly as any pack of wolves they made their way to the big barn which they hoped sheltered the missing villagers. Nothing stirred in the surrounding buildings, although the livestock were obviously unsettled. Touching a hand to a paw-print in the mud, Tristan looked up warily. "Not a dog or wolf. Too big and too heavy."

Arthur nodded at that information and gestured for Gawain to come forward. Approaching the wooden trapdoor , Arthur called out a greeting to the people they all hoped were safely hidden underneath it. At his commanders' not Gawain pulled it back, his axe gripped tightly in his hand. Familiar faces gazed up at him with relief and terror. A baby almost smothered in its mothers' shawl started bawling, an old man muttered something about a curse, and he felt his heart sink when he realised Llynya was not among them.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter - I hope I replied to you all, and for Phia - sorry, but if you want the story all in one go then you really will be waiting a long time! It looks like becoming an epic! Thanks for the encouragement though.