It turns out that they are heading east, much to Morgana's relief. It had been an uneducated guess and she hadn't wanted to have been wrong because the boy might have laughed at her. And she never liked being wrong, particularly when she argued with Uther. They could argue for days on end without relent, but when she ignored him or refused to eat at dinner, he would always yield. Always. Because he was a coward and she was not.

Reminded of her hatred for the man who killed her father, Morgana walks faster, storming through the forest at such a speed that the boy has to run to keep up.

"What's your name?" She asks him as he dashes alongside her.

He stops running and she stops walking. "You... Moorgarna," he manages to say, breathing heavily.

"Yes, that's me. But who are you?"

He frowns and scratches the back of his neck, looking as though he doesn't even understand the question. Then he carries on walking as if she'd never asked him. She matches his pace.

"Who are you?" She tries again, desperate to get something out of him. Either he is ignoring her or he's deaf. For once in her life, Morgana lets the matter go. They walk in silence for a few hours, comfortable with not speaking to each other and just concentrating on their own thoughts.

Morgana thinks a lot, about her father and Uther and herself. But mainly about the boy who is currently in her company. She had already decided that he wasn't an elf because although his ears were large, they weren't pointy. Also, elves were clever. This boy clearly wasn't a patch on her physician, Gaius. If he was, he wouldn't have been stupid enough to fall and hit his head on a rock in the first place.

So, the only conclusion she could come to at the moment was that he was a human being. He wasn't a druid, she had looked at both of his wrists earlier and she hadn't seen any marks or symbols. Uther said she needed to do this every time she was on her own when she met someone new. It was important because if the person had the symbol on their skin, they would hurt her. But this was Uther and she couldn't trust what he said. Sorcerers and druids couldn't be trusted either. Sometimes it felt like there was no one to trust.

Perhaps she could trust this boy, though. He hadn't done anything to hurt her, apart from knock her out cold when they'd slammed heads a few days ago, but that had been accidental. She reaches up to feel the receding lump on her forehead. It was still painful to touch, but the swelling had gone down. Hopefully it wasn't anything too serious.

And she was sure that he hadn't meant to let her sleep for so long. He had probably thought he had done the right thing, letting her rest. Only for her to wake up and throw him to the floor, shouting at him. He had flinched, too. Like she was going to hurt him. Her insides twinge with guilt. Perhaps she should be nice to him now. If she wasn't, he might leave her to journey on her own and she didn't want that.

He was the only real friend she had at the moment and, although she was perfectly capable of looking after herself, she didn't want to risk losing him. He was also quite attractive in a strange sort of way.

She feels herself blush and forces the topic to the back of her mind. What did it matter if the boy was the slightest bit good-looking? It didn't. It wasn't like she could ever marry him... or want to, even. She was a princess and he was a... well, he wasn't a prince, to put it nicely. He wasn't a Duke, either. Uther said that he wouldn't let her marry anyone lower than a Duke. She had then proceeded to tell him that she didn't want to marry a man with any kind of title because they were pompous, arrogant, stupid and chopped people's heads off for no reason. Uther had then clocked on that she was insulting him, banishing her to her chambers for the rest of the day.

She feels a tug on her shoulder and turns around to see the boy pointing into the distance. She squints her eyes and can just about make out a hut hidden between the willow trees. She mentally kicks herself – if the boy hadn't seen it, she'd have walked straight past it.

"Well done," she compliments him reluctantly, wishing she'd found it herself. "Let's go and look inside."

"Well done, well done, well done," he repeats happily, bobbing his head again. "Well done."

"Shh. Stop that. I need to concentrate." They approach the door with caution. The boy holds a stick behind his head and she takes her dagger out of its belt, ready to fend off any unwelcome inhabitants. After waiting to hear for any movements inside, Morgana kicks the door open, dagger drawn and ready to fight.

They must look ridiculous, poised outside an empty hovel with sticks and knives. She sighs at her own stupidity and enters their shelter, unclasping her cloak and resting it on a chair.

It is musty, dusty and more than on the shabby side, but she can't complain. There is a table in the centre of the room and two chairs placed around it. There is a small bed cramped up in the corner, shielded by a curtain. A moth-eaten rug lies crumpled on the floor and the boy trips over it, flailing his arms out as he falls head first on the wooden floorboards. She snorts with laughter as he tries to recover, coughing violently and scraping out cobwebs from his hair. The disturbance causes a thousand tiny dust particles to float up and around them, shimmering in the low light.

"I suppose this will do," she announces in a curt voice, drawing a face in the dust on the table with her index finger. The boy does the same, creating one next to hers and giving it a smile and a few short strands of hair. Morgana quickly gives hers hair too, making it long and slightly curly. The boy stands back to admire their simple drawings, his grin is infectious and she finds herself smiling, too.

"Shall we collect some berries now?" She asks him, now feeling an intense hunger that was almost nauseating. He nods earnestly, clearly feeling something like this as well.

He shows her to pick the darker berries instead of the lighter ones, placing them in the basket they had found at the back of the hut. They manage to collect a lot, only stopping when their weaved container is full to the brim.

By the time they get back to their shelter, her stomach is cramping in hunger, painful aches rippling out against her body. She sways over to the bed in the corner and collapses on it. The boy watches her, confused.

"Moorgarna?" He drops the berries down on the table and runs to her, pulling the sheets up to cover her shoulders. She groans loudly as the pain worsens and rolls over on her side, clutching at the blankets. "Berrees?"

"Yes," she hisses out and he promptly feeds her one, pressing it between her lips. Sweetness explodes in her mouth and makes her the insides of the cheeks ache, but she savours the taste and he gives her another. He continues to feed her until there are only a handful of berries left, which he eats himself. It was a good idea, really. They couldn't both be ill.

She sighs in relief as her stomach relents from the cramping and growling, allowing her to relax. The boy stands over her, staring.

"Moorgarna?" He sounds hopeful.

She moves over slightly so that he can lie down, too. He is taller than she originally thought, his legs stretching out so far that his boots hit the wooden board at the end of the bed. He turns on his side so that they are facing each other, their heads resting on the pillows. She makes eye contact with him for longer than was really necessary and he smiles innocently at her.

The urge to hug him is overwhelming, and she winds her arms around his small shoulders, pulling him closer. He stiffens for a moment, as if unsure of her motives, but when she rests her head against his neck and shuts her eyes, he relaxes, hugging her back.

With each minute that passes, Morgana can feel herself growing more and more attached to this boy, to the company that he provided. She didn't know his name, where he came from, what he was doing in these woods in the first place.

What she did know was that she didn't want to be without him. Her journey away from Camelot was not one she wanted to spend alone, especially as she didn't have a plan. She didn't know where she was going. She doesn't even know what there is to gain from this constant walking, so far it's been nothing but tiredness and pain. How far is she going to go? Is there a limit, a boundary to how far she walks? What if Uther wasn't even looking for her? What if she couldn't find the way back?

This sudden reality sends a cold jolt of fear to her heart, making it beat at such a pace that it seemed like it was jumping out of her chest. She clings to the boy next to her and for the first time in her life, Morgana feels lost, completely and utterly lost.

But the feeling disappears entirely when a large, bearded man bursts through the door of their shelter, ordering them to stand while pointing a sword dangerously close to their faces.

XXX

Oh dear, Merlin and Morgana have gotten themselves into a spot of bother! I wonder how they'll get out of it…

Big thanks to 'whatswiththemustache' for the reviews for the last four chapters and to the other 24 of you who have clicked the 'follow' button along the way! Maybe you can all spare me some reviews; smiley faces are fine :) just like that. Maybe even a sentence or two?

Thanks for reading!