Hey guys! Sorry it's taken me forever to update. My internet has been down all weekend! I promise the next update will be faster. Also, thank you etraya and Goddess for your kind reviews!

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In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said: "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter---bitter," he answered;
"But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart."

-Stephen Crane

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Tarra noted that the stable looked different today, more benign perhaps, with the sun streaming through the open windows, than it had during the shadow-casting storm the day before. Regardless of these improvements in climate, she was eager to leave. There were too many painful memories here. Hindering their speedy departure, however, was Lancelot, taking his sweet time to join the rest of the party and forcing Tarra and the knights to idle impatiently in the stable waiting for him to grace them with his presence. Arthur had left ten minutes before to try to track down Lancelot, leaving the rest of them with nothing to do but sit around and stare at one another.

Tarra decided finally to break the silence. "So, I take it Jillian convinced you to come along?" she asked Tristan, noticing that he had decided to accompany them after all.

"I don't want to talk about it," he replied sourly, shoving his newly sharpened sword into its sheath. She knew not to press him about the matter. She perceived that Jillian and Tristan had hit a rough patch and, although she liked Jillian immensely, she honestly wasn't all that interested in her half-brother's romantic predicaments.

She therefore shrugged her shoulders casually and said, "Well, it's probably for the best."

"Some say that distance makes the heart grow fonder," offered Gawain sentimentally, "Like in the myth of---of---oh, what were their names?---Odysseus and Penelope! That was it! Remember, that queer legionnaire fellow stationed here from Athens that told us about them and a bunch of other queer stories? Well, regardless, that was true love what they had."

"Ha! A load of bull is more like it," Tarra reviled, "I mean, sure, Penelope sat around waiting for Odysseus like a dolt, but what about his fidelity? He bloody slept with every available female he encountered on his way home. Men are fickle."

"Men are fickle?" scoffed Galahad, "What about women? Women are just as fickle, if not more so."

"Thanks guys," Tristan muttered sarcastically to himself, "This is making me feel much better."

"Galahad, you can not be serious," Tarra protested in disbelief, "Men are much more easily tempted than women. That's a fact. Take Lancelot for example. Have you ever met anyone so capricious? Why, just this morning I caught him in bed with---"

"---the woman I have been courting for five months," said Galahad solemnly, finishing her sentence, "Yes, ironic that I should need to seek out Lancelot to borrow his extra sheath on this morning."

"Ayiii! Your woman? Good gods, I'm surprised Lancelot even has an extra sheath, seeing as he never keeps his 'sword' put away for very long anyway, if you know what I mean," replied Tarra bitterly, "What a jerk---and what a foolish woman to fall for his devices when she should have been more than satisfied with your own devotion for her. You deserve better than that, Galahad."

"And you deserve better than Lancelot," said Galahad, his clear blue eyes now filled with sweetness and sincerity.

"What? I'm sorry?" Tarra blurted out with a startled laugh, "What in the world would give you the idea that I was even interested in that arrogant prick? No, no, he's definitely not for me. I'd sooner let a poisonous snake between my legs than his---"

"Speak of the devil!" Gawain interrupted quickly, bringing Tarra's obscenities to a halt. Arthur and Lancelot strode into the stable, Arthur looking stately and refined as usual and Lancelot looking fatigued and disheveled, but retaining the glow of a productive night spent. Lancelot ignored the cold stares he received from Tarra and Galahad and casually mounted his horse with an obnoxious yawn to remind them all that his night had been occupied by pleasantries other than sleep.

Once everyone had mounted their horses and were ready to go, Arthur announced in his usual, informative manner, "I have made arrangements for us to board a ship tomorrow evening departing for the French shore, but we'll have to make haste in order to catch it. Are there any last minute questions?"

"Yes, I have a question," said Tarra.

"Yes?"

"Is your entire purpose here simply to keep us on track and move our plot along?"

"I'm sorry?"
"Nothing. Nevermind."

"Plot?" asked Gawain, "That's an odd choice of words. You act like this is some kind of story or something."

"Maybe it is, or it could be," Tarra contended, "At least, I've always thought of my life as a story, one enormous plot that just keeps on unraveling and unfolding. Life is an adventure, Gawain. You should take more time to enjoy it. Perhaps someday people will tell great tales of this voyage we're about to take, though I suppose I'll have to accept the responsibility of acting as the protagonist, seeing as our heroic commander here lacks any real depth or interest. No offense, Arthur, but what we're doing here is good enough to be handed down from generation to generation as a myth or a legend or some sort of thing, and I just don't think you're cut out to be the central focus."

"Yes, well, when you're busy running your own country and thwarting assassination attempts whilst trying to keep an ornery whelp of a woman out of trouble, I'd like to see you finding time to maintain yourself as a compelling character," answered Arthur pointedly.

"Honestly, Arthur, Guinevere would not like to hear you saying those kinds of things about her," scolded Tarra in return with a teasing smile. Arthur glared at her and rolled his eyes for the ornery whelp of a woman he had described was not his wife, but rather the lady sitting next to him on her horse with whom he was presently conversing.
"Tarra, before we start on this journey, I must discuss something with you," Arthur asserted gravely.

"I think I feel a lecture coming on," groaned Tarra.

"I know you have your own ideas and opinions on a great deal of subjects, but there is one thing that you need to understand and that is that on this mission, I am in charge. We will do things according to my plans. I don't need you gallivanting around with your own foolhardy improvising," warned Arthur, "Now, I want you to make me a promise."

"Do I have to keep it?"

"Of course."

"In that case, no."

"It wasn't a question nor is it up for debate."

Tarra sighed and rolled her eyes, "Fine. What is it?"

"You will not do anything---anything without first asking my consent, are we clear?" said Arthur, sternly.

"Yeah, yeah, we're clear, Sir Stodgy-face," muttered Tarra reluctantly.

"Arthur?" she added.

"What now?"

"My nose itches."

"And?"

"Can I scratch it?"

"Tarra!" Arthur cried in exasperation.

"What?" she returned innocently.

"You're incorrigible," he sighed.

"I do what I can," she rejoined.

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Arthur, Tarra, and the knights flew from Hadrian's Wall atop horses that darted across the land like arrows sprung into flight across the sky. Soon, however, they had slowed their pace to a steady trot, trudging along the green, lush land that defined the country they called Briton. Lancelot, who had formerly positioned himself at the head of the line beside Arthur, now yielded his horse until he was side by side with Galahad who glared at him with a clenched jaw and eyes that seethed with repressed fury.

"Galahad," began Lancelot, "I wanted to explain about last night---"

"There's nothing to explain," Galahad retorted, looking away and keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead.

"No, I believe there is," Lancelot insisted, "Listen, she told me that it was over between the two of you."

"Funny," Galahad countered, "She neglected to inform me of that development."

Lancelot sighed, "You have to believe me. I know I joke around a lot, but I honestly would never have touched her if I had known the true circumstances between the two of you."

Galahad opened his mouth to respond, but a heated reply leapt out of Tarra's mouth before he got the chance. "Save your smooth-tongued appeals for one of your whores, Lancelot," she snapped, "For Galahad certainly won't be wooed by them."

"Perhaps you should mind your own affairs," Lancelot retaliated coldly, "For I assure you if he remains unaffected by my heart-felt and sincere appeals, he certainly cannot be wooed by your lies and manipulations."

"Hey! Lay off Tarra," Galahad ordered, defensively, "She's not the betrayer here."

"You mean that in all seriousness?" scoffed Lancelot, "After what she intended to do to Arthur, our commander, my best friend, by the gods, she is the worst betrayer of us all. I would have expected you, Galahad, of all people to see that."

"Yes, well, perhaps if your actions last night had remained only as intentions, I could have forgiven you as I have forgiven Tarra for hers," said Galahad with a wealth of wisdom unusual in his lack of years.

Lancelot let out a frustrated sigh, then returned to ride beside Arthur at the front of the line where he would be safely removed from the company of Galahad and Tarra who in the previous discourse had formed a new bond of confidence and friendship, united in their common grudge against him. As they rode side by side, Tarra took note of Galahad's disposition which after every passing moment degenerated deeper into gloominess and melancholy.

"Cheer up, Sir Sulky-drawers," teased Tarra light-heartedly, "Look on the bright side, maybe he did you a favor. You can move on and not squander anymore time with that unscrupulous woman now that you can see her for her true character."

"Yeah, you're right, I suppose. In fact, I vow from this moment on that I'm not going to waste one more single thought on that slut, whore, hussy, wench, she-devil, and---and---other names I can't think of at the moment," Galahad listed with contempt.

"Good for you!" applauded Tarra, "And I, likewise, am not going to waste another breath on that degenerate, swine, maggot, sleaze, good-for-nothing bastard! Not that there was anything between us, mind you."

"Of course not," said Galahad with a slyness that indicated he was not quite convinced, "But what would you do if he rode over here this very instant and pledged his undying devotion to you?"

"I'd kick him right in his lying face," replied Tarra fervently and without hesitation, "I've given up on the prospect of love with anyone long ago, if it can even be said that I ever wanted it in the first place. I've never been one for sentimentality, attachment, and the like---gives me hives."

"Well you have my complete support and I am behind you fully in your opinions," said Galahad, "I intend to wallow in my bitterness and enjoy every second of it. There will be no more of this thankless custom of courtship and ardor for me. From now on, I am immune to all temptations of affection and infatuation."

"Bravo!" exclaimed Tarra in approval, "We should form a community of likewise apathetic persons. Say Gawain, would you like to join our Society of Bitterness and Indifference?"

"Thank you, but no," Gawain declined, "I still have my heart set on finding a beautiful, amiable woman to wed."

"We'll see what good those traits will do you when she's making amiable in another man's bed while he deflowers her in all her beauty," replied Galahad, still absorbed in his melancholy.

"Well, if Gawain doesn't join," continued Tarra, "that just leaves us with Tristan, but somehow I think he's too enamored with a certain Briton to make a good candidate for Bitterness and Indifference."

At the mention of his name, Tristan looked over at them and spoke for the first time since their departure from Hadrian's Wall. "Or I'm just already too occupied with being indifferent to your bitterness," he suggested.

"It seems to me that your plan has one fatal flaw," commented Gawain.

"My plans? Flaws? Never!" Tarra protested.

"And what flaw might that be?" asked Galahad.

"Well," Gawain stated reasonably, "It seems to me that in your endeavor not to waste anymore time on amorous affairs, you will instead be wasting your time in a static state of that same bitterness and disappointment that you were trying to escape from in the first place."

"Hmmm…" said Galahad, thoughtfully, taking in what Gawain had said.

"Oh, don't listen to him, Galahad," Tarra retorted, "He's misinterpreted the entire thing completely! The Society of Bitterness and Indifference is only bitter and indifferent to romantic relationships, not to the essence of life itself. We simply refuse to let our state of happiness be defined by another. Honestly, if you can't be happy without a lover, you'll never find happiness with one."

"Hmmm…" repeated Galahad, again thoughtfully, "Sorry, Gawain, I think I'm with Tarra on this one."

"Of course you are because together we're---"

"---bitter and indifferent!"

"And delighting in every minute of it!"