When she wakes up, it is dark again. She is sat up against a tree and there is a fire. There is a boy, asleep, sitting opposite her. He looks about her age, maybe younger. He is quite skinny, she could easily overpower him in a fight, especially with her dagger. Her hand goes to her waist, where the weapon was slotted into her belt, to find it is missing. She looks around the forest floor, scanning the leaves for the blade. No such luck. She looks over at the boy. He has it. The dagger is clutched in his hand.

She scowls at his sleeping face and stands up as quietly as she can. The blood drains from her face and her legs go to jelly as soon as she reaches her full height, so she is forced to sit back down again, scraping her back against the tree bark.

She sighs and picks at the grass while she waits for the sudden nausea to subside. During the wait, she looks at the boy again. He looks a bit... a bit like an elf. With the big ears and the pale skin and the dark hair. Perhaps he had light eyes, too. Maybe blue, or green. She stops when she realises that she is practically describing herself as well as the boy.

Did she look like an elf, too? She subconsciously touches her ears – they weren't as big as the boy's. She wondered if he had green blood. It may sound strange, but in all of the stories she'd read, the elves had green blood to match the colour of the leaves of the trees they were born in. Each family lived in a different tree. If an elf was killed by a human, then the family members could identify if it was one of their own because of the colour of their blood. The books said that most elves looked very similar, so this was a good method to use. But she had no desire of cutting this boy – or elf – open to see. And this boy – elf or not - still had her dagger.

Morgana goes onto her hands and knees, mainly because she didn't want to feel ill again, and crawls over to him. She crouches down in front of him, her eyes constantly flickering between his closed ones and the dagger, trying to prise is gently from his surprisingly tight grip.

At the point where she almost has it freed, his fingers twitch around the handle, so she looks up at him.

His eyes are wide open and he is staring right at her. She nearly jumps out of her skin, but holds his gaze. The boy's unblinking blue eyes bore into her own uncertain, green ones. Uncomfortable with the length of time they'd made and held eye contact, she drops her eyes back down to the dagger.

"Can... can you give it back now?"

He stares at her a moment longer and then loosens his grip, letting her slide the dagger away and attach it back onto her belt.

"Thank you," she says quietly, sitting back against her tree.

At this point, Merlin had wanted to say something to make her laugh, like 'It's okay, you can stab me whenever you want now,' but his mouth didn't respond to his thoughts. So he nods instead.

"I'm Morgana," she introduces herself.

He nods again. Moorgarna.

"What's your name?" Moorgarna asks him.

His heart sinks and she sighs impatiently, throwing a small stick into the fire.

"You're not very talkative, are you?"

He shakes his head.

"Can you talk?"

He shakes his head again.

"Why not?" She asks in annoyance, looking up at the black sky.

He picks up a rock and brings it up to his head, feigns pain and then wiggles his hands in the air. She raises an eyebrow at him so he acts it out again.

"You... hit your head... on a rock and... and now you can't talk?"

He grins at her and nods rapidly – this was easier than he thought it would be.

"That's going to be a bit of a pain," Moorgarna decides and he frowns. He could still answer yes or no questions by nodding and shaking his head. "Can you repeat things?"

He shrugs his shoulders. He hadn't really tried talking. All he'd done was run for the past few days.

"We could try, couldn't we? Say 'hello'."

Merlin pauses for a moment, concentrating on the word. "He..."

"Lo," Moorgarna helps him.

"Heh...loh. Hehloh!" Merlin exclaims brightly.

The girl – oh, what was her name again? - Moorgarna, smiles. "How about... tree?"

"Tareey."

"Fire?"

"Fiyah."

"Um... Morgana?"

"Moorgarna," Merlin says proudly. That was her name.

"Horse."

"Horsssa."

"King."

"Kiinngh."

"Sex."

"Sekkhs."

Moorgarna giggles and his eyes light up. This word pleased her.

"Sekkhs," he repeats, bobbing his head as he says each word. "Sekkhs, sekkhs, sekkhs." What was a sekkhs again?

"So, you can copy what I say and you can understand me. That's not so bad," she says with a yawn, resting her head back against the tree trunk.

Merlin nods. It wasn't so bad. He inches a bit closer to the fire and curls up into a ball. About to fall asleep and with his eyes nearly shut, she asks him:

"Are you an elf?"

He sits up again and shakes his head at her. What on Earth was she talking about?

"Sorry, I had to ask," she apologises. "You just remind me of one."

He stares at her, confused. Was she trying to insult him?

"A bit. Not in a mean way," she blurts out suddenly. "You just... do."

Merlin plucks two blades of grass from the ground and starts knotting them together, unsure of what gesture to use.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you," Moorgarna says quickly.

He shrugs and settles down again, still playing with the pieces of grass. She hadn't offended him. He just couldn't remember what elves looked like. Because his mind was all muddled so he wasn't sure. But the one thing he was sure of was that the next time he woke up Moorgarna would probably have left him.

What do you think? Should I split them up? ;)

Sorry this is a shorter chapter than last time, but I hope the Merlin/Morgana interactions made up for it! Oh yeah, I made up the thing about elves, sorry.

Thank you all for your reviews, follows and favourites! I didn't think there would be so many so soon, but I'm very happy about it!

Sorry for any mistakes and thank you for reading! Please tell me what you think!