Each chapter takes place one year after the previous chapter, so here Gwaine is thirteen, Tori's twelve.


Chapter Two

"How long do we have to stay crouched like this?" Tori whispered. A moment passed. When he didn't answer, she tried again. "Gwaine? What exactly are we waiting for?"

Still nothing.

Tori had come to accept that there were two different sides to her friend. First, there was Normal Gwaine who rarely ever stopped talking, laughing, flirting, joking, or getting into fights; could sometimes be found working for Timothy the blacksmith; had no regard for other people's personal space, and who was always smiling – even if it was only with his eyes. This, however, was Serious Gwaine whom she only ever saw while he was ranting about nobles or in the woods (on the rare occasion that she followed him – like now). Serious Gwaine still didn't care for personal space and still got into fights, but he talked, laughed, flirted, smiled and joked much less, instead preferring to crease the spot between his eyebrows and be cryptic. Maddeningly so.

"For the time to be right," Gwaine replied finally. He was concentrating awfully hard at…nothing. At least, that's what it looked like to Tori, who rolled her eyes. For the millionth time that day, she wished she hadn't let Gwaine talk her into coming to the woods with him.

She'd been in the market with Elen that morning, both of them running errands for their mothers, when someone had come up behind Tori and tugged on a lock of her brown hair. Not needing to turn around to see who it was, she'd simply smacked the hand away and said, "Good morning, Gwaine."

"How'd you know it was me?"

"You're the only person I know capable of annoying me without even speaking."

Gwaine chuckled but otherwise ignored the quip. "What're you doing, shopping?"

Tori held up her shopping basket as confirmation.

He pretended to yawn. "Boring."

Next to Tori, Elen tried to hide her giggle, but failed. Gwaine grinned at her. "Morning, Elen. You look positively radiant today. You've done something new to your hair, haven't you?"

"Actually, I have—" Elen began, but one look from Tori stopped her. "Er, I mean I have…to go…to that stall over there. Bye!"

She shuffled over to a stall selling herbs and pretended to engage the seller in deep conversation. Tori turned to face Gwaine, frowning. "Must you do that? She's my cousin."

"No, I don't have to. But it's fun to try."

"Of course it is," said Tori and moved on to the next stall. Gwaine took her basket from her and carried it as he followed. When he had first done this, months and months ago, Tori had tried to take the basket back, but he'd insisted on carrying it for her. He never said it out loud, but Tori suspected he did this because he felt some sort of guilt over what had happened with that basket of cloth from when they first met. Tori's mother had been furious about it, after all. When she'd returned home mud-coated and drenched with water – like a human representation of the fabric – Miranda had been speechless for an achingly long moment before scolding Tori into a coma. She had been forbidden to leave the house for two weeks. "So what brings you to this side of town this morning?" Tori asked now. The morning was usually the time they spent apart – Gwaine was either hunting or working with the blacksmith, and Tori's mother kept her occupied with dresses and shirts and errands.

"Looking for you, of course," said Gwaine, picking up an apple and idly inspecting it.

She gave him a sideways glance, noticed he was wearing his bow and arrows with an empty hunting bag slung round his shoulder. "I'm busy."

"Oh, come on, Tori," he said cajolingly, "you can make time for me."

"Not today, I can't. Mother has four dresses to make by the end of this week and guess who has to help her?"

"I'm sure Timothy could lend a hand."

Tori scoffed. "Funny."

"Honestly though, it won't take long."

"What is it you want, exactly?" Tori asked, squinting at Gwaine with her hands on her hips. His face brightened.

"I want you to come hunting with me."

"No." She turned back to the stall.

"Aren't you going to ask me why?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not going to go whatever the reason."

"Why not?"

"In case you haven't noticed, Gwaine, nothing good ever comes out of me being in the woods!"

"You're overreacting," said Gwaine, somewhat condescendingly, Tori thought.

"I'm not! There was the ruined cloth, the snake, the poison ivy, and let's not forget that boar that was hell-bent on killing me! Did I mention the snake?"

"That snake wasn't even poisonous. And you're forgetting that I saved you; shot that boar right in the eye!"

"How could I forget when you keep reminding me?" Tori muttered, paying the fruit seller for six apples and moving on.

Gwaine playfully nudged her. "I remind you because I want you to know that you won't die as long as I'm around. You may get wounded occasionally, but you won't die."

Tori snorted. "How comforting." She did pause, though, and think about going. Gwaine watched her intently.

"Well?" he said, at last.

"I really am busy, Gwaine," Tori told him, this time with a note of apology in her voice.

"Oh," he said, looking down at his feet. "Well then. If you're busy, you're busy. Nothing I can do about that."

Rolling her eyes yet again, Tori took back her shopping basket. "Stop with the wet dog act, will you. What's so special about today, anyway? Why d'you want me to come with you?"

Gwaine shrugged, his face a mask of pure innocence. "Oh, no reason. Just thought you might've been interested in seeing a newborn deer calf, that's all. But like you said, you're too busy, so just forget about it."

Still facing Tori, he took a couple steps in the direction of the forest, relishing the look on her face that most girls got when they heard about a baby animal.

"Newborn, you say?"

"Yep. Still wobbly when it walks and everything. Picked up their trail yesterday – the calf and his mother. It's really a magical sight. Oh well. Too bad you're busy."

And with that, Gwaine turned around, grinning to himself. Any moment now, he thought. Three…two…one….

"Gwaine, wait!"

He resumed his innocent expression before facing her. "Yes?"

"I suppose I could…spare a few moments."

Then he beamed, and Tori was almost blinded. "You might want to give your basket to Elen," he smirked. "Just in case."


More than a few moments had passed with Tori growing more and more restless with each. Unlike Gwaine, she hadn't the patience or persistence to wait for something that might never come. The only times she could even tolerate sitting still was when she was sewing or watching her mother sew.

So it was with great relief when Gwaine lightly tapped her shoulder and pointed into the small clearing below them. She followed his gaze and felt the air leave her lungs.

Materializing from a dense clump of bushes was a doe. A real life doe – the first Tori had ever seen. She – the doe, that is – looked so nimble and delicate that Tori immediately felt awkward and clumsy in comparison, even though she wasn't even moving. The doe stood still, head high and poised, as if waiting for something. That's when the calf emerged behind her, on four disproportionately long legs. There was still a slight unsteadiness to the way the calf walked; he couldn't be more than a few days old. Tori didn't dare breathe for fear they would run away.

"What d'you think, Tor?" Gwaine whispered even though it was obvious what she thought from the look on her face. "No one could be too busy for this, eh?"

Tori shook her head slowly, clearly in awe.

"This…" she breathed, "This is magic."

Gwaine grinned, turning back to the mesmerizing view before them. "It is."

Sitting there, together, neither of them was aware that life outside the woods continued as usual. How could it, when something as extraordinary as this doe and her newborn existed? Tori couldn't remember ever being more content than she was right then.

But then – out of nowhere – an arrow appeared, lodged into the side of the doe's head, sending her to the ground with a sickening thud. Tori cried out before she could stop herself. Swiftly, Gwaine covered her mouth with one hand and clamped her shoulder with the other, making her lie down on her stomach.

"Shh!" he hissed, sweeping the forest with his eyes. The eyes of a hunter.

Tori's own eyes widened with a horrifying thought. They darted around, looking for Gwaine's bow and arrows. She felt immensely relieved to find his bow still strapped to his back. That meant he didn't do it. Of course he didn't do it.

But then who—?

Her thought was cut off by a loud, guttural laugh. Gwaine ducked down beside her and removed his hand from her mouth, using it to part the leaves from the bush that acted as their hiding spot. The view that this allowed them made Tori feel sick.

Two men, covered with grime and filth, were standing over the body of the doe. Both were tall and muscular, with faces that could curdle milk and belts that held vicious-looking blades. The only difference Tori could spot between them was that one looked older, with greying hair. It was the older one who worried her. He was the one with the bow and arrows and his face was set in their direction, eyes narrowed. Tori knew, just by the look on his awful face, that he'd heard her call out. Not that the younger one noticed. He was too busy laughing over the dead animal at his feet.

"Shall we track down the calf, Ardon?" he sniggered. "It couldn't have gotten far. Ardon?"

"Did you not hear it?" said Ardon, ignoring the question completely.

"Hear what?"

Ardon paused. Presumably to put a name to the sound. "A girl."

Tori's blood turned to ice. She had to clamp her hands over her mouth to stop the scream she was afraid would come. Gwaine's grip on her shoulder tightened until it hurt, but she couldn't say anything. Couldn't even look at him. Every part of her body was frozen, not daring to move, breathe, make a sound.

"A girl? Are you sure? A girl…a girl…" He said the word over and over, as if he were just learning it.

"Quiet, Dagyn. She might still be here."

"A girl."

Gwaine slowly closed the gap in the bushes, somehow not making a sound, and picked up two small stones. Then, making sure Tori was watching him, he mimicked throwing the stones deeper into the forest and pointed in the opposite direction, towards home. Tori nodded to show she understood.

Gwaine hurled the stones as far away from the two of them as he could. They hit a pile of leaves on the ground, making a rustling sound that distracted Ardon and Dagyn. Their heads snapped in that direction.

"The girl?" Dagyn asked.

One, mouthed Gwaine. Tori followed his lead and shifted her weight onto her hands and knees.

"One way to find out," growled Ardon.

Two. She tucked one foot beneath her, making sure to keep close to the ground.

"Here, girly girly…" hissed Dagyn. His voice came from a good distance away.

Three. Tori pushed off the ground and sprinted faster than the time the boar was chasing her; Gwaine was close behind.

"Ardon – over there! Two of 'em!"

"Go, Tori, run!" said Gwaine through gritted teeth. Although he could run much faster than she, he stayed just behind, keeping a firm hand on her back to both keep her from falling and to make her go faster.

"I am running!" Tori snapped.

"I meant faster – ah!" The pressure of Gwaine's hand disappeared from Tori's back.

"Gwaine!"

She'd barely stopped running when he was yelling at her again. "Keep going, I'm fine!"

"What happened?"

"Nothing, I'm fine!"

He didn't seem to be wounded, so Tori kept moving. The trees were starting to thin out; they were close to the village now. Tori knew those men wouldn't follow them past the woods. After all, this was just a hunt to them – something fun to do. But the fun would wear out soon enough when faced with a village full of butchers and blacksmiths and bakers (never underestimate a baker).

Finally, Gwaine and Tori came crashing through the trees, gasping and panting and startling the villagers nearby.

Including Tori's father.

"Victoria?" he said incredulously.

"Father!" said Tori, standing straight but wincing at the pain in her side from running too hard.

"What have you been up to now, Tori?"

Though he was addressing her, his eyes were fixed on Gwaine, who didn't seem to know where to look. Tori thought – with a little bit of pride – that her father must be the only person in the world who could intimidate Gwaine. It wasn't that Jeremiah was particularly menacing in any way, or that he was a butcher…it was more the way he could make someone feel like they were guilty, like they had to confess something, even if they didn't. It was those eyes: piercing, unwavering.

"Well?" he said. "Why were you running?"

"Gwaine challenged me to a race," Tori replied quickly. She couldn't tell him the truth. If she did, her parents would never let her go anywhere with Gwaine ever again. And that thought disturbed her more than she cared to admit.

"A race."

"That's right. But don't worry; I beat him."

Gwaine pretended to look affronted. "I let you win!"

"That's what you think!"

Jeremiah's eyes narrowed. He didn't quite believe his daughter. He'd seen the look on her face – and the boy's, too – when they emerged from the trees. They hadn't been racing. More like scurrying. Frightened rabbits being chased by wolves.

He decided to let it go – for now. The important thing now was to get her home before her mother organized a search party. "Come with me, Victoria," he said, turning towards home without waiting. "Now."

Tori followed after her father, leaving Gwaine with a hastily whispered goodbye.


Next day, Tori left her house extra early to check on Gwaine. She had yet to ask him why he'd stopped running yesterday. Even though he had said he was fine, Tori knew from Elen that boys liked to pretend they were much tougher than they were. She wagered he was no exception.

She knocked on the door, knowing his mother would already be at work, hard-working woman that she was. From the other side of the door, Tori heard a groan.

"Open the door, it's me."

Another groan, this time accompanied by slow, dragging footsteps. Finally the door opened, revealing a bleary-eyed Gwaine.

Tori suppressed a smile. "You look terrible."

He yawned. "Yeah, well, it's too early for me to look as good as I normally do."

"Right."

Gwaine stepped aside to let Tori in. Only when he closed the door and turned around did she notice the long red cut on the left side of his waist.

She frowned. "Is that from yesterday?"

"Huh?" he looked down at his bare torso. "Oh. Yeah. That guy Ardon shot an arrow and it just barely scraped me."

"You said you were fine."

"I was. I am."

"I didn't see any blood."

"Exactly. Like I said, it's just a scratch."

Still Tori frowned. He was downplaying it – he could have died yesterday. It was thanks to sheer luck that he didn't. She hadn't realized.

"Really, Tori, I'm fine. In fact, it's my shirt that was murdered."

He picked up the shirt he wore yesterday from the floor where he slept and showed it to her. The arrow had ripped a huge hole in the side but Tori only shrugged. "I could mend it. In fact…"

The idea hit her so suddenly and so hard, it felt as if she'd been plunged into an ice cold lake. Before leaving her house, Tori had brought a small bag with her. In it was the rope that her mother used to measure people for their clothes. She'd brought it with her as a sort of alibi, in the event her parents asked her why she went out so early. Tori took the rope out now.

"What's that for?" asked Gwaine. Then a realization seemed to dawn upon him. "Ah. Today's the day you finally strangle me to death, isn't it?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she said, and then grinned. "I'll save that for next week."

He made a face at her. "Seriously though, what's it for?"

"I'm going to measure you."

"Er, why?"

"That ripped shirt, it's the only one that fits you now, isn't it? You outgrew all the others."

"Are you trying to tell me I'm fat?"

"For God's sake, Gwaine."

"Okay, sorry, sorry. Yes, I outgrew the others. So?"

"So you can't wear the same shirt day after day. That's why I'm going to make some new ones for you!"

He only stared at her. "I wouldn't be able to pay you."

"I don't need you to pay me. Not with money, anyway."

Gwaine raised his eyebrows, looking suddenly amused. "What's going through that head of yours, Vicky?"

Tori was so excited about her idea she let the name (and the innuendo) slide. "In return for the clothes…in return for the clothes, you're going to teach me how to fight. With a sword."

Gwaine blinked once before proceeding to burst into hysterics. Tori expected this. He rarely took anything seriously.

"Are you done?" she sighed after a while.

"Why…why would you want to learn that?" asked Gwaine, still chuckling.

Tori didn't smile when she replied. "Because of yesterday."

Gwaine sobered and straightened up. "What?"

"Yesterday made me realize how useless I am when it comes to defending myself. Maybe if I could do that better – actually, if I could do that at all – we mightn't have had to run and you wouldn't have gotten hurt." She said this all in one breath, not knowing it was bursting to get out until just now.

"Tori, I –"

"Don't tell me you can't do it because I know Timothy taught you how ages ago; you're like a son to him."

"Yeah, but –"

"What?"

"Did you forget what I said? Nothing will happen to you while I'm around."

Tori took a measured breath before answering. "Gwaine, I know you mean well when you say that, but I don't think you realize how patronizing it is."

"How is it patronizing?"

"What makes you think I want to have to depend on you all the time? Whenever we go to the woods something always happens and you're the one who has to rescue me, and I'm grateful for it, I am, but I also think it wouldn't be so bad...if I could do my own rescuing." She paused. "D'you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Moments passed with neither of them saying a word. Gwaine didn't quite know why he didn't want Tori learning how to use a sword. He supposed he actually liked saving her…if only it was to brag about it later. Not a good enough reason, he told himself. He rolled his eyes then, and held out his arms to be measured.

He thought Tori's face might fall off, she was smiling so wide.