To all of my fantastic reviewers: THANKYOU:D

I wrote this extra fast because of all the reviews: over 100 for the story! wow, more than i had hoped for :)

so anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter and keep reviewing please. thanks again to you all :)

I barely noticed when I left the fort, walked almost blindly along the road. The tears in my eyes made everything blurry, and I almost broke my ankle in a rabbit hole I didn't notice.

I couldn't believe Tristan had hit me. After all that had happened… I tried to excuse his behaviour, tried to tell myself that he hadn't really meant it – but he had. He had meant to hurt me, and although I had seen the regret in his eyes after, I just couldn't forgive him.

It was awful, to suddenly realise that Tristan wasn't the perfect saint that I had thought he was. Yes, I had been blinded by loyalty and affection – but I should have realised.

My idol had just toppled from his pedestal.

I'm ashamed to admit that I was crying as I left. Yes, I had left Tristan behind, but it hurt so much that it felt like a physical wound. I wished, oh how I wished that I had never become the hawk, was still at home with Ebony and Rachel.

I only noticed where I was when I stepped out of the sun into the cool shade of the trees. I wiped my eyes and looked around. I would stay here for a while, as long as I could survive. I had brought with me a full leather bottle of water and several loaves of bread – enough for two or three days.

I walked further into the forest, not even trying to remember the way back to the road. It was only when I stumbled over something that I realised I had been here as the hawk before.

This was where I had watched Guinevere and the Woads shoot, where I had watched the knights as they prepared for battle. I had watched Tristan-

No. Don't think of Tristan. I have to put him behind me.

I had fallen over a stray arrow. I picked it up, running a finger along the feather flights. I was about to throw it away, but something stopped me. For some reason I still don't know, I wanted to keep it – a souvenir of sorts, I suppose. Whatever it was, I didn't throw it away.

I don't know how long I walked, my eyes blurred with tears as the sun slowly set. I think I ended up walking in circles, but at last I stopped and sat down with my back to a tree by a stream.

It was late evening before I roused myself to gather wood, I didn't remember until after that I had no way to light the fire.

Everything seemed suddenly against me – have you ever felt like that? That everything that could go wrong did go wrong?

Yes, I cried. I poured my heart out, crying not only because I was cold and hungry, but because I was lonely and couldn't get over what had just happened.

Tristan.

Why? I wailed silently. He didn't know how much he had hurt me. Actually, no, correct that. He knew. He didn't care.

It was ten days later when I went back to the fort.

Why didn't I simply stay away?

Because I had no knowledge of how to survive in the forest – the only hunting I'd ever done was as a hawk. By the time I got back, I was hungry – and I mean hungry as in ravenously hungry. I had survived by eating very small amounts of bread, with whatever nuts and berries I could find.

I stayed out of the way of the other people as much as I could when I entered the fort. I was at the side of Vanora's tavern when she walked past with Arthur, not seeing me. Whatever they were discussing, it wasn't good – Vanora looked worried, Arthur looked as if he hadn't slept in days.

'-Don't know where he is, he couldn't survive an attack. He's been gone two days.'

'He must be looking for that girl,' Vanora said, plainly worried.

I caught a sentence of their conversation, and it made me feel as if a bucket of ice had just been tipped into my stomach. If they were talking about who I thought they were…

I skulked in the shadows as Arthur joined his knights. I mentally ticked off each knight. Tristan wasn't there. My insides seemed to turn to ice.

Yes, I had tried to abandon him – but no matter how I tried, I just couldn't push him out of my mind.

'-Gawain, Galahad, take the forest to the south-east of the Gate. Bors, Dagonet, take the south-west. Be back before nightfall.'

The knights nodded and left, striding away so fast that they were almost running. Arthur sighed and headed after them, towards the stable.

All I could think of was Tristan, alone in the forest for two days. Was he still alive? After I had left the fort, I had tried desperately not to care about him, not to care what happened to him. But I couldn't do it – I had nightmares of Tristan dying, and I would wake cold and sweating.

I knew that no matter what he had said and done, I couldn't leave him along in the forest to die.

If ever I need to be a hawk, I thought, it's now.

I had failed before; I couldn't afford to fail again. I thought of a hawk, concentrated so hard to become the hawk that I didn't realise straight away when it happened.

Suddenly the world was so much larger, I was so much smaller, my senses were so much sharper. I took off, revelling in the feeling of being free once again.

A sharp pain in my left wing reminded me that I wasn't fully healed, that I couldn't waste any time. I took off, flying fast towards the forest.

I swooped low over the tree branches, searching. I used my keen eyesight to search, but found nothing.

All day I searched, flying for as long as I could. It was late afternoon when I finally stopped, absolutely exhausted. I realised dimly where I was, then a sudden thought struck me. If I was right…

Forgetting my exhaustion and ignoring the insistent pain in my left wing I took off again, gliding silently through the bright sun. At last, I was there.

I spiralled down, hoping. I was almost afraid to look, afraid that I was wrong – but I didn't have to worry, he was there.

Tristan was sitting under a tree, his back against the trunk. I recognised the tree, the glade – it was the place where he had first rescued me from the wolf, where I had first met him.

I circled silently above him, not sure what to do. He glanced up, saw me, and I saw his mouth curl into a smile. I dropped lower, and he held out an arm.

I landed beside him, deliberately ignoring his outstretched arm. He smiled slightly again, this time it was more bitterness and regret than hope and relief.

'I'm sorry,' he said quietly, but I heard every word. The look in his eye was sincere; he truly meant what he said. 'I lost my temper. I meant it when I said that I'd never send you away, although you must think me a liar.'

I hissed slightly, feeling my feathers bristle. All the pain he had caused me, both physical and mental, was too strong to be overridden by his words.

'Please forgive me, Aderyn.'

I cocked my head to the side, a silent question. Once again he gave a brief smile.

'It means "bird",' he said softly. 'You never told your true name. Do you like it?'

I flicked my wings, which he took for a "yes". He held out his arm again, and I slowly stepped up. My heart was beating fast as he held my level with his face.

'Can you forgive me?' he asked softly.

He was sincere, I could see it in his eyes. I was torn. I had sworn to put Tristan behind me, never to trust him – but now I was faced with him, he was offering me his apologies, and his words were stronger than my resolve.

But still, I wasn't going to let him off lightly. I screeched and bit him fiercely on his jaw, opening a red furrow in his skin. He blinked, jerked his head back, and I cheeped softly as I ran my beak through his hair. He smiled slowly.

'I deserved that and more,' he said, and I could hear the relief in his voice. 'Thankyou.'

It was then that I noticed the dark stain spreading through his clothes. I could smell the metallic scent of blood – Tristan's wounds had opened again. He looked down at his blood-stained clothes as I croaked in worry. He gave another bitter half-smile.

'I was looking for you, instead I found a Saxon,' he said softly.

He was pale underneath his beard. I nudged his arm worriedly as he closed his eyes and rested his head against the tree. His breathing was fast and shallow – already I knew that he needed Dagonet's healing.

I took off, struggling slightly to rise into the air as pain shot through my left wing. Tristan opened his eyes, looked up as I rose into the air. There was alarm in his eyes.

'Don't leave,' he said, in a voice little more than a whisper. 'Don't leave…'

I circled once, called reassuringly, then headed towards the fort. It was late afternoon, almost evening. I hoped desperately that Dagonet would be there – Tristan needed him now.

I was forced to fly slower than I would have liked – my left wing was so painful that I couldn't fly any faster without being in agony.

I couldn't help but wonder at myself. I had resolved to put Tristan behind me, never to listen or speak to him again – but now here I was, flying with a fractured wing to help him. But I couldn't deny it any longer – I loved him.

At last I reached the fort. Arthur, Bors and Dagonet were just leaving the stable. Feeling relief so acute that it was almost painful, I swooped down and landed on the ground in front of them.

'What the-?' Bors asked, looking confused.

Arthur, though, seemed to understand. 'Tristan's hawk?'

I clicked my beak and spread my good wing to balance as I hopped towards them. Arthur looked cautiously hopeful.

'Do you know where he is?'

I screeched, flapped my wings in answer.

'Can you show us?'

Again I answered. Arthur turned to the others, his eyes shining with hope although his face was still worried.

'Dagonet, come with me. We might need your healing abilities. Bors, get the others and follow our trail.'

Bors left without a word while the other two men saddled their horses in record time. When Arthur and Dagonet were mounted, the commander gestured towards the forest.

'Lead us.'

I took off. At first I couldn't get into the air, and dropped back to the ground. Dagonet leaned down with a worried look, but I snapped at his hand and tried again.

This time I got into the air, but without any of my usual grace. I struggled higher, then led them out of the fort and into the forest. I had to fly slower with the horses following, but at long last we arrived.

By now it was evening, and the light was a kind of dark purple that made everything look dark and mysterious. I swooped down and landed next to Tristan. He looked terrible, and was unconscious.

Blood had soaked his clothes on his chest and had collected in a pool on the ground. He was pale and hardly breathing – I was struck with a sudden fear that he would die, here and now.

Then Dagonet knelt down. He looked serious as he used his dagger to cut away Tristan's blood soaked shirt, revealing the ugly cut underneath that was bleeding sluggishly.

'He might not make it,' Dagonet said tersely, pressing a cloth against the wound to stop the bleeding.

I was exhausted – more tired than I had ever been before in my life. I made another huge effort to get off the ground and perched in a tree above Tristan's head.

I had meant to stay awake and keep watch, but I was too tired. I fell asleep as Tristan hovered near death.