Here we go! sorry, I tried to get this up on Friday, but the ocmputer kept saying "error". Grrr.

Anyway, thankyou heaps to my wonderful reviewers, this chapter's for you.

I fought as soon as the net was off, but the Saxon easily overpowered me. One held my head and legs still, so that I couldn't bite or scratch. The other tried to tie my beak shut – without any success. The rope was just too thick, and not even the netting would work.

So they bound my feet together instead, and used a sharp dagger to cut through the feathers on my wings that enabled me to fly. It hurt because they were so rough, and I fought as hard as I could, but there just wasn't anything a hawk could do against a huge, heavily muscled Saxon.

At last I was dumped on the ground. A rope was attached to the stake where the knights were tied, and the other end was tied around my legs. All I could was hop and try my best not to fall over.

As soon as the Saxons turned their attention to celebrating, Gawain reached over and picked me up.

'Are you alright?' he asked softly, holding me in his arms. 'I'm sorry, we should have warned you.'

I croaked tiredly, my throat rough from screeching so loudly at the Saxon. I wanted to transform back to my human shape, but I knew that would be dangerous. Not only would the rope around my legs cut my circulation off, but being a naked woman in the middle of a Saxon camp was not a good idea.

I was stuck.

As the Saxon celebrated and ate, I heard them laughing and making crude jokes about the Sarmatians. Galahad stiffened and swore through clenched teeth at one such quip.

'If I can get my hands on them…' he muttered.

One of the Saxons turned to me and laughed.

'You know how we caught you, little hawk?' he sneered in appaulling Latin.

I screeched my anger. The others laughed.

'Raury at the fort sent us regular reports of what was going on. When he heard that you were coming to find us, he sent a homing pigeon ahead of you. Imagine that! a hawk beaten by a pigeon!'

Galahad spat at him. The Saxons laughed and turned back to their meal and ale. I would remember that name. Raury would have a very slow, very painful death.

So the bird that I had seen flying into the forest ahead of me had been a homing pigeon, carrying a letter from a spy in the fort. I felt so foolish - but overriding that was anger. That man would pay - in blood. I knew that even if Arthur let him off, Tristan would hunt him down.

That night was a terrible one. The other knights were furious, not only at being overpowered and captured, but at the treatment I had received. I noticed Galahad eyeing the nearest Saxon – if his hands and feet hadn't been bound, I think he would have strangled the man with his bare hands.

There were many more than the three Saxons I had seen when I had flown in. About twenty others had been hiding in the bushes and trees around the clearing, wearing green and grey splotched cloaks that blended in perfectly. I felt such a fool when they moved and I saw them – if I had been less hasty, more careful, I would have seen them. About ten more came in later, carrying a large deer which they had shot. Several bodies lay sprawled, unmoving on the other side of the fire.

'The ones we killed,' Gawain said softly when he saw me looking towards them. They ambushed us using a trap in the ground, but we killed about ten.' He looked at the other Saxons, his face sour. 'Wish we'd managed more.'

I was in an agony of discomfort, unable to move my legs. I had to wait until most of the Saxon had gone to sleep before I could start to try and gnaw through the ropes binding my legs.

It was impossible to do – I couldn't bend my back enough to reach the rope. Galahad leaned over and nudged me.

'Aderyn,' he whispered. 'If you can get these ropes off my hands, I can get the dagger hidden under my clothes.'

I got to work straight away, but it wasn't easy. The rope was thick and coarse, and my beak made little progress. But it was something to pass the time.

'Where is the dagger?' Dagonet asked, brow furrowed with confusion. 'They searched us for hidden weapons and took mine.'

Galahad smirked slightly. 'It was hidden in a place they didn't think to look.'

Gawain snorted and Dagonet shook his head, a slight smile on his usually sombre face.

It was early dawn when finally the rope was frayed enough that Galahad managed to snap by jerking his hands apart as hard as he could. He grinned and reached under his shirt for the dagger.

'Thankyou, Aderyn,' he said softly. 'Now we can get out of this mess.'

He produced a thin-bladed knife from inside the hem of his cloak. He smirked at Gawain's surprised face.

'Well, they didn't check there,' he said innocently.

'But you said – I thought – ' Gawain spluttered.

Galahad smirked. 'Really, Gawain, you shouldn't spend so much time with Lancelot,' he said wickedly. 'You used to have such an innocent mind.'

Gawain gaped as he worked out what Galahad had said. By the time he had realised that he had been insulted, Galahad had cut through the ropes on his legs and had started on mine.

The rush of blood back to my feet was painful, but better than having the circulation cut off by the ropes. I hopped up onto Gawain's offered arm, regretting more than ever the loss of my feathers that enabled me to fly.

Galahad cut through the ropes holding Dagonet, then the three men huddled together to devise a plan.

'Get our weapons,' Gawain said, nodding towards the pile on the other side of the clearing. 'Then get on the horses, and get the hell out of here.'

Galahad shifted, longingly gazing towards the sleeping Saxons. Dagonet shook his head.

'No,' he said softly. 'There are too many. We escape and warn Arthur – nothing else.'

The young knight sighed and nodded. Then Gawain, still with me on one arm, led the others at an army crawl towards the pile of discarded weapons. None of the sleeping Saxons stirred – they were too drunk. It was the ones on sentry that worried me.

The three knights paused when they reached the tree and their weapons. When there was no movement or sound except from the constant snoring, they quickly took their weapons and headed back towards their horses.

Their luck ran out as they freed the horses from their hobbles. Dagonet's temperamental stallion snorted and whinnied – a piercing sound that woke several.

A Saxon leapt up, saw us, and yelled. More woke and rose, yelling and grasping their swords. Most were drunk, staggering as they ran towards us.

'Let's go!' Galahad yelled, vaulting onto his horse's back.

Gawain did the same, almost jolting me off his arm. The three kicked their horses into a gallop, Gawain's grey running down a Saxon that got in the way.

The three men bent low over their horse's necks. None had bridles, only halters and trailing lead ropes that were dangerously close to their hooves as the horses galloped down the path. Gawain looked back and cursed.

'Duck!' he yelled.

He crouched lower as arrows sailed around us. I had never felt more helpless – I couldn't fly, couldn't do anything more than grip doggedly onto Gawain's arm and hope that I didn't fall beneath the pounding hooves.

It was early dawn, and pale purplish light made the forest seem strange and hostile. I glanced behind – the Saxons had no horses, and couldn't keep up. But their arrows were still flying around us, and as I spread my wings to balance one went straight through.

I screeched in pain, and lost my grip on Gawain's arm. I fell, and landed in the cold, hard dirt of the of the path. I heard the thunder of hooves, and opened my eyes.

In horror I saw the four hooves of Galahad's grey mare bearing down on me. Galahad hadn't seen me – he was looking over his shoulder at the Saxon. Thankfully, though, the horse stepped over me – except for a back hoof that caught my head.

I didn't have time to think – the world darkened like a switched-off television screen.

When I came around, it was with a pounding head and an agonising pain in my left arm.

I opened my eyes, bit back a groan as the world spun. I was human – and I could feel cold air on the bare skin of my body. I sat up, waited until the world stopped spinning, then looked around.

I was back in the Saxon camp. My heart sank. There would be little chance of escaping now. The men were around the fire, arguing with raised voices. Several swords were drawn.

I became aware of pain in my legs and looked down. Both my hands and my feet were bound so that I couldn't move. I glanced at the sky – it was late afternoon. How long had I been here?

A Saxon looked over, and noticed that I was awake. I didn't like the smile that curved his thin lips – I shivered, desperately wishing that I could transform and fly, but I didn't have the strength left and even if I did I couldn't fly with cut feathers.

The Saxon tapped another on the shoulder, and jerked his head at me. The other smiled, a cruel smirk – I began to sweat in fear, but I refused to let anything show on my face.

The arguing broke off as more realised I was awake. When one spoke, I could hear what he said.

'I want her first. You bastards can wait until I'm finished.'

I shivered again. Tristan! I thought desperately. If ever I needed you, it's now. I knew there was no way he could hear me, but it was all I could do to stop myself from bursting into tears.

The leader walked over, followed by the smirking pack of men. I stared up at him, my teeth bared in a snarl.

'Hello, pretty,' he cooed, kneeling down and stroking my hair. 'What's your name?'

I swore viciously at him in English, then spat on his face. He wiped the saliva away, a cruel smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

'Yes, I'll enjoy making you scream,' he said softly.

I stared back, doing my absolute best to keep fear off my face. I wouldn't cry, I wouldn't let him know how scared I was.

He leant down suddenly, covering my mouth with his. I bit his lip hard, and I heard his muffled yell as his blood ran into my mouth. I spat it at him. He was no longer smiling.

'Hold the bitch,' he said harshly.

He drew his dagger as two of his men pulled me up so that I was standing. He ran the dagger down my left arm, the one that already had a huge gaping wound from the arrow. I felt the cold of the steel, then my warm blood trickling down. I forced myself to meet his eyes.

'Scream, slut,' he whispered. 'Scream, and I'll make it quick.'

The knife jabbed hard into my arm. My hands were tied, but I made good use of my head – I slammed my forehead into his nose. I felt bone break, and his blood splattered me. I felt sick as he reeled back, roaring.

One of the soldiers hit me across the face, hard. Another punched me in the stomach, pushing the air out of my lungs. I struggled to breath as the Saxon leader raised his sword, blood coursing freely down his face from his ruined nose.

He screamed something as the blade descended – I couldn't move as I watched my death move towards me.

But then he toppled over with a scream, a black feathered arrow in his neck – Tristan's arrow.

Then Arthur and his knights were riding in, Tristan ahead of them all. I saw the unmasked fury in his face as he saw them clustered around me – he shot another in the eye, dropped his bow and drew his sword.

There were many more Saxon than knights, but the Sarmatians and Arthur were furious. The Saxons dropped me as they drew their swords, but the knights cut through them easily. They were angry, and they fought like devils.

I lay where I had fallen in the dirt, feeling the Saxon's blood on my face, in my mouth, my own blood on my left arm. Suddenly there were foot steps behind me, and someone gently lifted me up. Tristan's worried eyes looked into mine.

My head was spinning, and I think I had a concussion from being kicked in the head by Galahad's horse. Darkness caught me up, but at least I had the comfort of knowing that I was among friends once more.