As usual, the typical disclaimers apply. I don't own them, wish I did. I own Delaney, and sometimes that's enough.

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Mandamirra10– You will just have to read and find out who she ends up with. Thanks for the

Wonderful compliments.

Cardeia–Hope you like the observations. You have no idea how thoughts inspire! You will learn what the circular marks are later. I hope I covered all of your questions!

KnightMaiden–Here is your update! Hope you like. Thanks for the review!

They had given her some jerked venison and some hard bread. She nibbled at it while she walked around, investigating the vegitation. Delaney wasn't purposely avoiding them, she was trying to stay away to avoid questions. She had watched Star Trek enough to know about how time travel affected the space time continuim or something like that. She had observed them silently.

Dagonet was a true gentle giant. He talked softly and carried a big axe, but he had a tenderness about him, whether it was talking with his horse or stopping a confrontation between Gawain and Galahad. Bors, for as much bolstering as he did, was a huge teddy bear. When people weren't looking he and Dagonet would discuss the future and his children. Gawain reminded her of a human version of the lion of the Wizard of Oz. He'd fight when he had to, but other than that,he kept to his horse and talked to Galahad. Galahad on the other hand. He was young. That was the only way to describe him. He didn't necessarily like where he was at, but there was no where else for him to go. He reminded her of how she had felt in highschool; wanting to break out of the small town she had grown up in; only to find that she had no clue about the world in general. Lancelot, she smirked. He was smart. That much she could tell. He also had given her many nice fantasies to pass the time with. In reality, as witty and funny and smart as he was. He was a pretty boy, and pretty boys didn't have time for plain jane's like her. Tristan, she sighed. Tall, dark, and silent. He was her shadow and comforting. He didn't talk much, for that she was grateful. He never asked any questions about her. He would silently observe. She could relate to that. She much prefered being the one to do the watching, than the center of attention. Last, but not least was Arthur. Alone, even when he was surrounded by his knights. She noticed he and Lancelot would talk, but even then she sensed a deep lonliness in the man. These were his men to command.

She came upon an old knarled oak tree and looked up, grinning. Quickly she finished off the bread and meat and then after dusting her hands off upon her jeans she jumped up and grabbed for the lowest knarled branch. She couldn't quite reach it. Sometimes she hated being of average height. She walked away a bit then tried for a running start; it ended up being a slow lope. "Well damn it all." She muttered in aggrivation, the tree was too wide around for her to take off her shirt and use it as a counter weight to get up the tree. There she stood, hands on her hips looking up at the branch, nibbling her bottom lip as she contemplated what to do when she felt hands about her waist. The next thing she knew she was being lifted and she quickly wrapped her hands around the thick branch and scaled the trunk of the tree, lifting herself up and over. She settled and found herself staring down at Dagonet's smiling face. He reached for the low branch and lifted himself up with ease; settling down next to her. "You must be feeling better." He observed.

"I'm sore, but I shall live."

"Are you okay?"

The corners of her mouth turned up into a soft smile, "A bit overwhelmed. but honestly, I'm fine."

"You seem very quiet."

"I don't have a lot to say."

"I think you have very much to say."

"Why do you think that?" She asked, glancing sideways at the gentle giant.

"You have broken ribs, a very mild concussion, a battered face and bruised ribs yet you do not speak of how you got these injuries. Instead, you ask if you can help prepare food for a meal. When we tell you that all is fine you wander off. This to me means that you rather be left alone so as to not have to answer any questions.

"I'm sorry. I do not mean to be rude."

"We do not mind. We know when you are ready we will know what you know."

"What if I never tell you?"

"Again I tell you, I do not mind and I doubt the rest do either. It is nice to have a pretty lady to accompany us. Yet, eventually we will ask questions." He hopped down and then turned and reached for her, "Come, we're leaving once again."

Once she was settled upon the ground she looked up at him, "I'll be there shortly, nature calls." At that he quirked an eyebrow and then she said, "I need to refresh myself." He merely nodded and walked toward the horses while she walked toward some secluded trees. When she walked by Tristan he muttered, "Watch out for snakes." To which she replied, "You'll be the last to know."

She was once again seated in the saddle with Lancelot. She had given up trying not to use him for a pillow. Her body was protesting and she could no longer fight it. Every minute movement seemed to jar her and cause her to wince. "Lancelot, do you know where my bag is?" he didn't reply and she turned to make sure he had heard her when he handed it to her.

At her raised eyebrow he smiled, "I had it in my saddle bags." She nodded as she opened it and began rummaging through it. With a smile of glee she opened up the bottle of ibuprofen and swallowed two pills. She felt a nudge at her arms and smiled when he handed her a water skin. "Thank you." She murmured as she swallowed a mouthful with an audible gulp.

"What was that?"

"Medicine to help with the pain."

"Where did you get it?" He was trying to get her to open up. They all knew she was unusual and not from this time.

"I brought it with me." She replied quietly, trying to slide the barriers back in place. She knew he must wonder where she was from. But to try and explain to someone of the dark ages about time travel would be well... as impossible as explaining it to someone from the twentyfirst century. She let out a heavy sigh.

Lancelot noticed that she no longer relaxed against him. She lay against him only because his arm around her waist forced her to. He could see the tense posture as well as feel the pressure against his arm as she tried to both physically and mentally guard against him. He tried a different tack, "You have a unique accent where are you from?"

"Far from here."

"Far from Britian or far from this particular area?"

"From Britian."

"I see."

Delaney turned and glanced at him, then quickly looked back ahead. At least he didn't ask yet another question that she couldn't answer.

Lancelot smirked. He had to give her credit. She hadn't lied yet. She may have been vague, but she had as yet to lie. They rode on in a guarded silence.