Disclaimer : I don't own anything except Kele

Rating : T

Summary : A girl sentenced to death by Cerdic flees to safety, and is rescued by a knight who finds something he never thought he could – someone who understands him.

Author's Note : Thank you for the kind reviews! I hope you enjoy this chapter (Tristan, knight in shining armour…swoon!) and leave a message to let me know what you think!

Chapter 2

Tristan's horse gave a soft whinny, the air flowing from his nostrils turning white in the crisp, cold air. He trotted forward in the grey dawn, Tristan on his back, alert as ever as he took in every sight and every sound around him. He ducked his head slightly to go under a branch, and as he lifted his head again the angle allowed his peripheral vision to become aware of something a few yards into the trees.

He stilled his horse with an imperceptible signal from his heels, his hand going naturally to a dagger at his waist. Dismounting silently, Tristan's free hand grasped the handle of his sword. He moved forward, his feet making the slightest sound on the fresh snow that blanketed the ground. The object in the undergrowth did not appear to be moving, but he had been caught out like that before.

He came to the last tree before small clearing in which the mysterious object lay. Using it for shelter he froze and surveyed the surrounding area. Sensing no threat he stepped out into the open.

A girl, lying crumpled on the frozen ground. His brow furrowed slightly. A trick? But all his senses were telling him there was no danger. And Tristan trusted his senses.

Finally relaxing slightly he let go of his sword and knelt down. What he saw made even the hardened warrior's heart constrict slightly. A slender girl lay bruised and broken in the snow, the pure white stained red in patches where blood weeped from cuts on her arms. A vicious cut curved down one cheek and onto her chin, the other cheek marred by a bruise. Her pale skin was deathly white, freckles that were dusted across her cheeks standing out in stark contrast, as did the strands of copper hair that were matted to her face with dirt. He lightly touched her cheek and found her freezing to the touch.

Suddenly concerned, Tristan moved his fingers to her neck, feeling urgently for a pulse. The slightest sigh of relief passed his lips as he found one, weak as it was.

He stared down at her, for once unsure on the best action to take. It would almost have been easier if she were dead – he would have felt no remorse leaving a corpse in the forest, as he had done so many times before. But she was alive, and something his brain was telling him he could not be as ruthless as normal and leave her to die, although she would be a hindrance if he saved her.

Reaching a decision, he carefully slid an arm under her shoulders and another under her knees, standing and lifting her thin frame easily. If Arthur could waste their time rescuing innocent sufferers, so could he.

XXX

"Arthur!" Tristan cantered up the track, past the slowly trudging villagers, carrying his precious cargo. He reached Arthur who was riding alongside one of the wagons that carried the sick and injured. "Arthur." He needed no words as he showed Arthur the girl lying across his saddle.

"Where did you find her?"

"The forest." Tristan looked at him, a flicker of desperation passing his eyes. "She needs help, Arthur. She's dying."

Arthur eyed Tristan in slight confusion. His unfeeling, straightforward scout seemed to be showing concern for this poor creature, the first time in fifteen years Arthur had known him to have compassion for someone other than his fellow knights and his animals. Shaking his head he snapped back to attention and dropped his horse back a few paces so he could see into the wagon through the door at the back.

"Dagonet? We need help."

Dagonet looked up from where he was tending to Lucan. Tristan manoeuvred his horse so he was next to Arthur. Wordlessly, Dagonet lifted the girl from Tristan's arms and laid her on the thick furs.

"I'll do what I can, Tristan," he promised, before turning back to his new patient.

XXX

A few hours later Tristan returned from another scouting mission. Professional and dedicated as he was, he'd managed to keep his mind on the task, but barely. For reasons incomprehensible to him his thoughts kept straying to the fragile creature fighting for her life in a wagon.

After reporting to Arthur, Tristan rode to the wagon that contained Guinevere, Lucan and the girl. Slowing his horse to a walk alongside the wagon, he peered through the sticks that formed the wall. All three were sleeping, Dagonet absent. The girl was closest to him and he found himself watching her for a few moments, almost more vulnerable now she was sleeping peacefully.

"I am not sleeping." The voice made him start, and he peered closer at the girl, who still had her eyes closed. A small smile came to her lips and she opened her eyes, revealing them to be the same soft grey as the dawn under which he had found her. The slightest hint of pink came to Tristan's cheek as she caught him staring. "You saved me." It was a statement, not a question. Tristan nodded. "Thank you." He gave a slight shrug in response. Tristan liked to save his words for when they were really needed. "You don't say much, do you?"

Tristan fought his sudden urge to speak, an urge which didn't come very often. He lost. "You should sleep."

She smiled at him again, a sweet, sad smile. "How can I, when my dreams are plagued with nightmares?"

"Horrors in our minds cannot hurt us." Tristan was as frank as ever. He had no time for dreams, or imaginings. Where did they get you? "Sleep."

"How can I deny my saviour anything?"

Tristan gave a curt nod and made to signal his horse forward. But a thought that had been plaguing his mind all day wouldn't go away. He fought it, but almost unwillingly, he looked back at the girl. She was watching him expectantly, as if waiting for words she couldn't know were coming. "What is your name?"

She smiled, satisfied. "Kele," she murmured, before her eyes crashed shut.

Tristan allowed himself the briefest of smiles, an expression that his face muscles were unused to making. 'Kele,' he thought to himself with an inward chuckle. 'Hawk.'