They rejoined the wagons sometime later; riding close enough to protect if needed, but far enough away to escape the curious gaze of the peasants. No one spoke as Arthur left to hold a hurried conversation with Jols and Ganis, instructing them on what to do next. He deposited Guinevere into one of the wagons, and rejoined his knights. Still nothing was said.
The only sound was the dull clopping of the horses' hooves on the hard earth; a hollow, flat sound that was echoed in each of their heartbeats as they surrounded Dagonet's body, shielding it from prying eyes. And although none of them would admit it, they all felt the need to be as close to what was left of the gentle man as possible.
For the first time that he could remember, Tristan was filled with an almost overwhelming need to be with the living. Despite the fact that he preferred to be alone, even the solitary scout knew that he needed human companionship to stay sane. Most often it was in the form of the knights he rode with, sometimes in the form of a tavern wench.
But that wasn't what he craved now, not what he desired so deeply that it was difficult for him to keep his breath steady and not panicked.
Toril. He needed to see her, to hold her in his arms, to hear her voice, to make sure she was safe. And despite the fact that one of his dearest friends was dead, Tristan realized that he had never felt so alive, so free, as when he was with the woman he loved.
So with the suddenness and abruptness that accompanied all his decisions, Tristan moved away from the little band of horses, stopping only to conference with Arthur before galloping off into the woods.
You will always be able to find me, Tristan...if ever you need or want to. Toril's words from earlier that morning echoed through Tristan's mind as he cantered through the forest, back towards the lake. Well, I need to find her now, but have no idea where to look.
A flash of white caught his eye just as he finished the thought and he grimaced at the owl's perfect timing. Karina sat serenely on a tree branch to the left of the path, at the entrance to an almost invisible trail into the forest. And without a second of hesitation, Tristan turned Filia down the path into the darkness of the trees, past the owl who just ruffled her feathers at him as he disappeared silently into the woods.
For several minutes, Tristan rode quietly with all his senses on high alert, searching for some sign of Toril but finding none. Just as the path began to curve back towards the south, he caught a glimpse of Medwin from his periphery and heard a whisper behind him: "Ride for the wall, Tristan." He nodded, just the barest flicker of movement, urging Filia into a trot and then a canter, knowing instictively that Toril would keep up. They reached the edge of the forest and charged across the plain in a hard gallop, towards the gate in the wall where the last of Marius' peasants were trailing through. The sight of the Roman guards' surprised faces registered in passing as they thundered through the closing gate, skirting around the lagging peasants and racing for the wagons.
"To the fort?" Tristan called over his shoulder at the woman behind him.
"Just you," Toril replied, already angling towards the sheltering woods. "Too many questions, not enough time. But I'll be here." Tristan nodded, allowing himself just one full look at her as she and Medwin galloped towards the forest, her lean body hunched over Medwin's shoulders in a relaxed pose, urging the huge white horse on with soft words, her cape and hair billowing in the wind. Then he turned Filia and followed the worn road towards the fort, towards his brothers, towards Dagonet's body, and towards his discharge papers.